Chronicles of the Children of Destiny Volume Five - Anthology
by saruviel
Summary: An anthology collection of short stories.


Chronicles of the Children of Destiny

'Anthology'

by

Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

.com

© 6177 SC

Stories

Evening Stars

Gabriel and Aquariel

Witches and Warlocks

The Gabriel Agenda

Veldona and Shemrael

Linda on Fire

Sharakondra

Krystabel and the Clock of Eternity

Bantriel the Seraphim

Matrel and the Diviner of Untold Miseries

Callodyn and Kayella

The Cherubim Navindra

Phanuel and Brindabel

The Days of Summer Past

Saruviel of Eternity

The 700,000

Just a Few More

Callodyn's Pride

Fighting for Glory

Call to Honour

Veldona and Shemrael 2

The Last Days of Eternity

'Evening Stars'

Prologue

Before the beginning God planned. He planned something special, something new. He planned to create. For all eternity he had been alone, and then Callodyn and Kayella had been born, and lived for a while, and they rested. And the other Children of God filled his head, and then he dwelt, for a while, upon Saruviel. Saruviel. What a bloody angel. What a bloody serious bastard of an angel. For Jehovah's sake, he thought to his glory, what the hell would he do with Saruviel? Make him the Antichrist, Gloryel suggested, at the back of his heart, every day or so. That will teach the fucker a lesson. 'Yes, dear daughter. You really are glorious. Nice suggestion. I think so.'

But, seriously, what to do with Saruviel Saruviel, Saruviel, Saruviel. Bloody Saruviel.

Destiny was strange, weird almost, different. But would serve his purpose in his threefold plan. His threefold Chronicle. Yet completion was 12-fold, as Valandriel would eternally testify to, And the Children of God would ultimately yield to the Children of Love. But plans often changed anyway, for the book of Destiny was full of all sorts of crypticities, with shadows of turnings and all sorts of potential dead ends.

But Saruviel. Blessed Saruviel. Where to begin? At the beginning, I suppose. At the Beginning.

And so, as he had done, and presumably always would do so, Jehovah got to planning, and Yahweh helped him out, and Adonai Eloheinu got on with the job.

Part One

Youthfulness

Chapter One

The first thing the Angel Saruviel remembered was darkness. Infinite darkness. And therein he dwelt, and therein he found his peace, and therein he found his absolution. And then, after darkness, a strange thing. Light. And an Angel called Gabriel shone his love upon him, and kissed him a brotherly kiss, and there they were, running around, playing rocks, and having the time of their lives.

'We're not the bloody Morning Stars, ok, Kantriel. We're the Evening Stars. Right, Daraqel.'

Daraqel shrugged. Saruviel decided everything these days, didn't he.

'Morning Stars suck, anyway,' said Devuel. 'Especially Aquariel. Calls herself 'Morning Star' herself. Bright blessed Gabriel's loving and devoted twin. Thinks she is glory, and not Gloryel. She's hot, though. Gloryel. I like her.'

'Get your mind out of the gutter,' responded Saruviel with a glare. 'She likes me, after all. She tells me all the time. That I am nice and serious, and that I am a responsible young angel. I'm older than her, but she calls me a responsible young angel.'

Daraqel and Kantriel sniggered at Saruviel's joke.

'Nah. She likes me,' responded Devuel. 'Luladiel tells me so. Says she looks at me when we are at Michael's fort. Says she thinks I'm cute.'

'Cute?' queried Saruviel. 'I suppose. If someone whose face resembles a bottom looks cute.'

Daraqel and Kantriel grinned again.

'Good one, Sar,' said Daraqel.

Saruviel grinned, while Devuel gave him the finger.

'If there is anyone Gloryel likes, its obviously me,' put in Semambarel suddenly.

'Dream on,' replied Saruviel. 'You have the charms of Michael on a good day. And he is as boring as they bloody get.'

'Likes to think he rules us,' put in Devuel, picking a berry from a tree and eating it.

'He doesn't,' said Saruviel flatly. 'The old man does. The father. He tells me who he is. Ok. I know who he is.'

'Who?' asked Daraqel?'

'Yeh, who?' queried Kantriel.

Saruviel smiled at them, and was about to boast out his knowledge, but kept his lip.

'Well, never you mind. Ok. I'm seventhborn. And it's my private knowledge.'

'You're a shmuck,' said Devuel.

'Saruviel's a shmuck,' said Kantriel, teasing.

Saruviel grabbed his younger brother, and the rest of the afternoon they wrestled away, as the light gradually diminished throughout the Realm of Eternity, another glorious day for the children of the Living God.

'Michael. You are good and responsible,' said Elenniel.

'Yes, Michael,' said Meludiel. 'You are the bravest of us.'

Daniel looked at Meludiel say that. He was instantly jealous.

'I'm the strongest, though,' said Yaramiel.

'I can take ya,' said Abraqel,' and the two of them fell to a wrestling contest, as some of the Seraphim of Eternity gathered around to watch them and laugh.

The 140 angels were mostly there, at the fort of Michael, living their young lives, in Zaphora. It was not yet known as Zaphora, but the Realm of Eternity, but one day it would be. They were young. Still so very young, living innocently in the world God had created for them, eating at the garden, running around, now in tunics which had been made from cotton which had been made into thread. Of course, they knew each other's nakedness well, but innocence knew no concerns of any thoughts of anything other than childful play. Besides, the equipment, as it where, for that mysterious act of procreation was not yet part of the children of God. One day it would be, but not yet.

They had adventures, each and every day, and Gabriel had gone on about a message from God, who had called each of them his precious Morning Stars. And he liked it when they sang together, the Morning Stars. When they sang as a group, lovely songs of life, and praise. And he loved them each, oh so very dearly. And he treasured them. And he delighted in them. And they were all united. And they were all at peace.

And then there was Saruviel.

Michael wondered about Saruviel, occasionally. He was a different type of brother, Sar. A lot more, well. Well, serious. Like he felt he was the real firstborn in a way, and somehow the real and most responsible one of them. Weird that. That was not true. Michael was number one. He had always known that. Of course, he loved Saruviel, and they played around together from time to time, but now, with all 140 angels born, groups had begun forming. Little cliques, were certain angels seemed to connect more strongly with certain others, and that was, apparently, the way of things.

Like Azrael and Cosadriel. They fought each other tooth and nail, constantly. Always arguing, always boasting, but the love was always apparent as well. Like a rivalry which would last for all time. And perhaps even longer. He loved watching those two go at it, and their twins would stand idly by, used to the shenanigans, used to the rivalry.

There were many such groups, and Saruviel had one also. Him and Kantriel and Daraqel especially, with the predictable Devuel always there, and Semambarel half the time as well.

And then there was Daniel, who kept to himself, the shy one, but seemed to get along with Kantriel a little bit. He puzzled on Daniel. Different sort of an angel. Quiet. Shy. Like he hadn't quite connected with the rest of the angels yet. Just like him.

Of course, he and Gabriel and Raphael ran things, and they were the tightest group of all.

And, of course, Ambriel. The love bug himself. He could never live without the little guy, smiling at him, asking endless question after question, and the constant concern for every angel in the family.

It was a good group, the Morning Stars of God. And they would always be that, he supposed. Together. Living at peace with each other. Happy and at play. Forever, naturally. Or so he believed.

'What's this?' Kantriel asked Saruviel.

'The New Order,' replied the seventhborn of the angels.

'The New Order? 50 Male Angels. You first. There's no Michael on it. A whole lot of angels are not on it.'

'Followers of Michael. The hard core. I cut them out.'

'Why?'

'Coz they suck,' replied Saruviel. 'Besides, I'll re-add them to the list later on. When I have proved my point.'

Kantriel studied the list for a while longer and nodded. 'Ok. I'll go with you on it.'

'On what?' asked Daraqel, sitting down. Kantriel handed him the papyrus.

'The New Order,' said Daraqel. 'But there is only 50 of them? And no Michael.'

'Nor his crew,' said Kantriel.

Daraqel handed it back to Kantrie. 'Yeh. Alright. If you say so Saruviel.'

'Yes. Yes I do, young brother. Yes I do.'

'Can I have a look?' asked Semambarel.

Kantriel handed him the list. It read:

The Seraphim Males of Eternity

1. Saruviel

2. Sariel

3. Bantriel

4. Cimbrel

5. Dameriel

6. Valandriel

7. Loquiel

8. Cosadriel

9. Kelkuriel

10. Gamrayel

11. Semambarel

12. Jontel

13. Yaramiel

14. Mistrel

15. Matrel

16. Kantriel

17. Daraqel

18. Simonuel

19. Azrael

20. Jerahmeel

21. Devuel

22. Zadennuel

23. Jamenuel

24. Talutiel

25. Phindwel

26. Remriddel

27. Roshael

28. Kalenuel

29. Gandel

30. Talzudiel

31. Sosteriel

32. Daniel

33. Radrukiel

34. Sadurael

35. Abraqel

36. Pendrael

37. Fazuel

38. Wendel

39. Berakiel

40. Ulantriel

41. Judayliel

42. Desdrael

43. Othaniel

44. Queriel

45. Zakiel

46. Saziel

47. Adruel

48. Halyudiel

49. Samael

50. Zashadiel

'What about the rest?' asked Semambarel innocently.

'I'll add them back in later. When they have learned their lesson,' responded Saruviel.

'Fine,' said Semambarel a bit nervously, but didn't object either. Saruviel's new order. Forever onwards, he supposed. Well, ok. Why not. Why not.

Daniel was a shy angel. He didn't get along with the group very well, but his twin, Ariel, talked with him from time to time and reminded him he was loved. He liked all the angels, but didn't think Michael was a very good choice for firstborn. He was showy. He dressed himself with an attitude of 'I know everything and I am the superior one, and sucked up compliments constantly and thought himself worthy of them. He thought him an idol the angels worshipped, usurping God's place in the scheme of things, and trying to be an authority when he should leave people alone to live their own lives and not put up with the whims of an angel only focused on 'being cool' about things. Like he was something special. He talked with Ariel about this and she nodded to him. 'But we like to flatter Michael anyway. We love, remember. Who cares. Life goes on. Michael will get over his superiority complex one day.'

'At least Saruviel has a brain about it,' responded Daniel. 'He has authority naturally in him, and wields it well keeping people in line when they listen to him. More imagination as well. Michael's sucks in comparison.'

'Then go join Saruviel then,' she replied.

'No. No thanks in the end. In the end, I think, he is a bit arrogant as well, and probably has something coming to him from God. In a million years, or something.'

'What's a year?' she asked innocently.

'The old man talked about it with me. A measurement of a unit of days. Count off the same number of days time and again, each being a year.'

'Oh,' said Ariel. 'An interesting idea.'

'God tells me lots of things,' said Daniel.

'The old man isn't God. He just represents him.'

'Mmmm,' said Daniel. 'Probably. I am not sure, though, in the end if he is really that, though. God. Despite claiming to be to me.'

'Oh, you have doubts about him.'

'He thinks to highly of Michael. The Spirit of God says to me it's not the same in eternity, later on. When things are resolved. When the truth is known. A new order will arise, when a correction of illusions has been made.'

'The Spirit of God?' she asked him.

'A technical term for who God really is. The big voice. Not this Jehovah fellow.'

'Jehovah? You and your big words, Daniel. You are always too technical. Lighten up.'

He looked softly at her, and walked away. He didn't like being rebuked, and sulked for ages when his brothers and sisters had a go at him.

Ariel watched him go. She'd done that before. Had a go at him. She knew it wasn't right. The others did it as well. Teased Daniel. Seemed everyone liked to do that. Tease Daniel. Probably, she should know better. Probably.

Kantriel surveyed the plane. Right in the centre of the Realm, a plane, roughly circular, fit for a grand and great home.

'It shall be called Zaphon,' declared Michael confidently to the crowd. 'It shall be our home, our eternal abode, our eternal rest, of joy and peace. Yet, first, according to the word of God, we must make things – tools and such – to construct what he calls a 'Keep'. And therein we shall find our salvation.'

Kantriel made the first axe, and Saruviel the first saw, Michael designed the first hammer, and Gabriel made nails. Many long, many short. Yaramiel and Abraqel worked with rock and, soon, they were making a trial go of an abode north of the plane. It looked ok when finished, but father told them they would now be challenged to excellence, and when it was torn down, they had been fitted with proper work clothes by the 'Tailors' amongst them, the quality of their tools improved greatly, and plans drawn up for the design of the keep. It would take a long time, was all they were told, the building of Zaphon, but they took to the task and, in the late afternoons, when they drank from the Sellawon, or ate from the fruit of the gardens, they would gaze on the unfolding Zaphon keep and know they had worked a triumph.

And then, lo and behold, it was complete. And then, lo and behold, it was done.

And the angels had built themselves a home.

'You really don't know who God is at all. Now you say its Jehovah again. Make up your mind Daniel.'

'I'm. Uncertain,' he finally responded to Ariel's point.

'Just like you,' she responded. 'Come on. God is God. Just the way it is. Get on with your life. Leave stupid questions alone.'

'I guess so,' responded the uncertain Daniel the Seraphim, but the question still puzzled him.

Later on that year, the year Zaphon had been built, Daniel spied Meludiel alone in the lower dining room. He looked at her, and he wasn't sure if she noticed him, but he looked at her, fascinated yet again by her beauty, and coveted her heart. But then he rebuked himself yet again, left the room, and went down to the Sellawon. Meludiel would never like him. She would always be faithful to Ambriel. He would never impress her. But still he looked, and still he ogled, but acting on that impulse. Well he would never do that, would he? Would he?

Saruviel sat there, in the darkness, alone, nobody else around, thinking to himself, alone, nobody there, alone – quiet. Quiet.

He was in the cellar of Zaphon keep, sitting in a lounge chair, on the northern wall of the large cellar, a candle he had brought down with him steadily burning away, doing nothing at all but just sitting there, lost in thought. Hand on chin, resting in the seat, thinking.

'In the end, when all the hurly burly had come and gone, and they'd had all their celebrations, and built all their marvellous abodes. In the end when they'd had all their romances, and made all their wonderful friendship clubs and had all their loves. In the end, when they'd designed every invention capable of and bragged and boasted about being Angels of Glory. In the end, when it was all said and done, and they'd done everything they were capable of doing, what then? And really, what was the point? What was the point?

It felt like, in a strange way, that life was meaningless at that point. Like it was chase after the wind. Like it served no great purpose and that after you had achieved all your glory, fear God and obey him, and that was all that mattered in the end anyway.

And then, in the end, why serve God? If life was that predictable, that mundane, that according to plan, why serve God at all? Perhaps he was just a bit boring in the end. And perhaps he just made the angels conform to his whims for his own pleasure, for his own sense of glory and accomplishment. Perhaps he didn't really care at all, and just had made them for his good pleasure. Perhaps that was what it was all about.

But that wasn't fair. They deserved better than that. The angels of glory, they deserved much better than that – than being mere 'play things' for the cosmic creator.

And suddenly he was annoyed, and suddenly he was angry, and suddenly he was pissed off.

But he kept his anger to himself, and he kept his thoughts to himself, and he thought on the evening stars, and he thought on the truth he knew.

And time would tell of what would be.

'The operation is ready to go,' said Kantriel, his face covered in black ash, wearing khaki clothes like the rest of them, all garbed up in 'Evening Stars Elite' uniforms.

'Ready?' queried Saruviel to all the Evening Stars surrounding Zaphon. 'ATTACK!'

And in they moved, like death shadows, bags full of pooey laundry and, one by one, while the angels slept, dropped the pooey whites onto the faces of the sleeping Seraphim.

All around Zaphon, for the next half an hour, outbursts of 'Pooo, what's the stink,' as one by one the Evening Stars heard shocked yells of 'What the heck!' and so on.

Eventually, Michael in the lead, they all appeared downstairs in the main lobby outside of the dining room. And there, on the lounge chairs, sat the evening stars, smirking at each other, and looking oh so not innocent.

'Are you guys responsible for this?' Michael asked them instantly, holding a shitty sheet.

'We've been playing bush games,' responded Kantriel. 'What, you couldn't hold it in?'

'Very funny,' said Gabriel. Daniel strolled up, then, from out of the keep, not having been affected by the situation.

'Was this you Daniel?' they all asked him, looking at the innocent Seraphim.

'It was Daniel,' some of them started yelling, perhaps too nervous to accuse Saruviel and his crew.

Daniel looked on, and suddenly burst into tears, and ran out the way he had come, Ariel quickly running after him.

But Michael glared at the confident Saruviel. He knew who it was. And Saruviel would get his come uppance one day. You could count on that.

'Nobody likes me,' said Daniel miserably. But Ariel held him in her arms, and rocked him gently. They were there half the night, sitting next to a Zaphon porch, Daniel feeling sad, and Ariel rocking him and singing softly to him. She told him stories and adventures and said to him that life and eternity would go on forever and see millions, perhaps billions of different places and adventures for each of them, and they would have countless friends and intimates before, at the end of it all, they would find each other again, and then, when all was said and done, Daniel Would love Ariel and Ariel would Love Daniel, and that would be that.

And Daniel fell asleep in Ariel's arms, and she watched his eye movements, and wondered what strange dreams he would have, and she loved him with all her heart. With all her heart.

'One day you will have to grow up, though. If you want to be firstborn.'

Saruviel acknowledged the words of the old man. 'But, even that? What's the point? Of it all?'

'You. You will have to figure that out for yourself. It's in your heart,' and the old man patted Saruviel on the back, and wandered away, and Saruviel sat there, on eastern porch of Zaphon, thinking about life. It was sunny at the moment, and the angels were mostly around there at the moment, celebrating Daniel's birthday. Ariel was seated next to him all day, and after the stunt they pulled recently, Saruviel knew what was coming to Daniel. He got up, went inside, and soon returned with the sealed package.

He weaved through the crowd, and sat down next to Daniel.

'Ho, its Saruviel,' said Michael to everyone. 'Does he have a great gift for Daniel?'

'Let's see, Saruviel,' said all the angels in unison.

Saruviel looked at Daniel. 'You know, you're a pretty special guy, Danny. When it all comes right down to it. We want you in the Evening Stars, and we promise to behave a bit better about it all.'

And Saruviel undid the package, and revealed an Evening Stars Elite uniform, which Daniel put on, and it fitted perfectly.

Daniel smiled, and Ariel beamed at him all day long.

And, from the corner of the celebration, the old man looked on, and also smiled at Daniel, and said to himself. 'An Evening Star? When all is said and done? Very well then. His glory shall certainly be challenging because of it.'

And the Spirit of God said in the throneroom of Zaphon 'AMEN!'.

Saruviel and Devuel were at Michael's fort. 'They don't come here much, anymore. Since Zaphon's been built,' said Devuel casually.

'Life moves on,' responded Saruviel, digging into the dirt at his feet.

'Yeh. Who knows where we will be in a million years, huh?'

'Ruling trillions,' responded Saruviel.

'Very funny. There are only 140 of us,' responded Devuel.

'You think that is the way it will always be?' queried Saruviel, looking directly at his younger Evening Star brother.

'I don't know. Won't it?'

Saruviel just looked at him and continued digging.

A distance away Semambarel and Kantriel and Daraqel were all playing around, throwing pine cones at each other, acting like idiots. Saruviel gave them a glance, but continued what he was doing.

'More angels?' asked Devuel, curious.

'Sure, why not?' responded Saruviel. 'You think God is satisfied with just 140 of us? He wants unlimited numbers, probably, in the end. A neverending supply.'

'And how do you know this?'

'It's what he's raising us for,' responded the all-knowing Saruviel.

'Maybe he's made others already,' thought Devuel out loud.

'Maybe,' said Saruviel.

'Fuck. It would be intense if we had other brothers and sisters. People he hasn't talked to us about.'

'Out there,' said Saruviel, pointing. 'Out there. It must go on forever. It just has to. If there was a real end to it, what lies beyond that?'

'Dunno,' responded Devuel.

'Just that. God hasn't worked there yet. But he will. I am certain of it. And it's our destiny to be part of it.'

'Our destiny?' queried Devuel.

'Our Destiny,' confirmed Saruviel.

Devuel just looked at his brother, considering his thoughts. Just like Saruviel. To meditate on the heavy shit in life. Just like him.

Suddenly a pine comb hit Saruviel on the head, and the three others bore down on them, and another of the Evening Stars famous wrestling sessions began, a tight fought contest, for they were reasonably well matched. And the spirit of God observed some of the more memorable cussing this little group had portrayed so far, and even though he raised an occasional eyelid, he let it be. Such were the Evening Stars of God. And how could he ever really complain?

Daniel and Kantriel were on the northern edge of the Realm, near the Rim. The Rim was the edge of the Realm of Eternity, the realm being roughly circular in shape. You couldn't really transverse the rim, though, as everyone knew. If you flew out beyond it you would go only so far, and while you would keep on flying and might feel like you were, if you looked back at the realm you would notice you were not getting any further away. A very strange design of God, which had always puzzled the angels, Daniel especially.

'Meludiel will never like you,' said Kantriel, to a subject Daniel had gingerly raised. Of all the angels, it was usually Kantriel who Daniel seemed to be able to get along with a little, although he had been interested in making friends with Valandriel for a long time, but who always seemed to be doing this or that.

'Your right. I know. She likes Ambriel too much.'

'What do you expect? Their twins?'

'But she doesn't hang around him very much,' responded Daniel.

'You know how girls are,' said Kantriel. 'Shantriel doesn't even talk to me at all hardly, but she's my twin, and occasionally I see her looking at me. She doesn't like the Evening Stars thing, though. Upsets her. Wants me to be a Morning Star.'

'An Evening Star is more interesting,' responded Daniel. 'But sometimes I feel I am different type of Star entirely.'

'Yeh. The poo Star,' said Kantriel, grinning.

'And you're the Shit Star,' replied Daniel, and grabbed his brother, as they wrestled away for a while.

'If I'm the Shit Star, there must be a Piss Star,' said Kantriel, smiling.

'That's Daraqel,' smiled Daniel.

'Which makes Saruviel your Pee Star,' replied Kantriel, a huge grin on his face.

'Then what is Semambarel?' asked Daniel.

'The Vomit star,' suggested Kantriel.

'Which makes Devuel the Puke Star,' finished Daniel, and they started laughing.

'But your both idiot stars,' said Ariel, who had snuck up on them and been watching them quietly.

'Don't worry,' said Kantriel. 'She's the bitch star.'

'Kantriel!' scolded Ariel. 'A lovely way to talk about your sister,' but she softened on him.

'What's Ambriel?' asked Daniel.

'The Gay Star,' replied Ariel, and all three of them burst out laughing.

'And Michael?' asked Daniel.

'The Dork Star,' said Devuel.

And one by one, by the Sellawon, for the rest of the afternoon, the group of three little angels proceeded to mock the entire heavenly host, granting them quite rude and disturbing titles of eternal Star Glory. And God reminded himself to write the entire list down, despite the vulgar, and quite shocking, display of onomatic brilliance from the 3 little devils.

'Gabriel. Dear brother. Can I have a word?'

Gabriel turned to the voice. It was Saruviel.

'Yes, Saruviel. How can I help you?'

'You speak with God. Of course, we all do, but I find that he seems to confide in you most of all, these days especially.'

Gabriel almost blushed. What Saruviel had said was somewhat true, now, he had noticed. While Michael had always been the firstborn and chief advocate from their Father from 'Eternity's Haven', were God in the throneroom was known to summon Michael often and speak with him, instructing him on what he should tell the angels, in recent times it had been Gabriel more and more so which had been chosen for this role. And quite apparently that had been noticed.

'Well, thanks Sarry. What do you want me to ask him?'

'Its not so much a request, but an inquiry. An inquiry on, how shall we put it, permissions.'

Gabriel was puzzled. Permissions? What was Saruviel driving at.

'What sort of permissions?' inquired Gabriel.

'Exactly just that,' replied Saruviel. 'I wish to know, how can I put it, our freedoms. What are the liberties we are allowed here in Eternity? What can we do? What can we get away with?'

'Get away with?' responded Gabriel a little concerned. 'You want to get away with something?'

'You misunderstand me,' responded Saruviel. 'I'm not trying to get away with anything at all. Far be it for the seventhborn of God to wish to cause disharmony in the community. I just wish to know the kind of behaviours we can perhaps practice, even perhaps a little casually, without drawing concern from God. What does he tolerate?'

'Well, he has always tolerated quite a bit,' responded Gabriel. 'God loves us. You know that. Why such a strange question?'

'Good to know what you think,' responded Saruviel, even a little sharply. 'But I'd like to hear God's opinion on the subject. If that is ok, mind you. You don't mind asking, do you?'

'Uh, no. No, sure,' replied Gabriel. 'Its a strange question, personally, as we are really just supposed to behave ourselves and get along. But if you wish to know the limits of our playfulness, sure. I will ask him for you.'

'Thanks,' replied Saruviel. 'Very gracious of you. Look, I'll check back with you in a few days, if that's ok.'

'Sure,' responded Gabriel.

Saruviel nodded, looked at his brother cautiously for a moment, and smiled. 'Well, I'll be seeing you. And thanks. I look forward to the answer. Seeya.'

Saruviel turned and left and, as Gabriel watched him go, he puzzled for a moment on the strange question but then, his thoughts returned to what he was doing, turned and continued on with his busy day.

'What was his answer then?' asked Kantriel.

'Officially, the Father of Glory loves all his children and their playful hearts. But there are limits in behaviour, and Torah answers such dilemmas. Nothing more was said,' responded Saruviel.

'Torah doesn't restrict us much,' said Daraqel, of the tightknit group of 3.

'Oh, it has ideas,' responded Saruviel. 'He does not tolerate all that we might think to do. There are words in their which have shades of judgement.'

'Judgement?' asked Kantriel. 'What the heck is that?'

'The rulings of God,' said Saruviel soberly. 'And that is what I fear quite strongly. That God will have his rulings upon us and that, in truth, we are not as free as we might imagine.'

'So what?' queried Kantriel, who was now munching on their lunch meal.

'Yeh, what's the big issue?' said Daraqel, in response.

Saruviel looked upon his two younger Seraphim brothers. They did not, yet, have quite the imagination that he had hoped for.

'In the accomplishing of glory, sometimes rules need to be bent,' said Saruviel.

'Ooh, bend the rules,' grinned Kantriel.

'Suffer the judgement of God,' said Daraqel dramatically.

'Indeed,' replied Saruviel, who said nothing more, as they continued on with their meal.

Ambriel was the 60th born of the Seraphim of Eternity, who worked with Raphael and Loquiel and others to bring harmony to the lives of God's children. He was a ministering angel, an angel of great love and, under Raphael, worked faithfully and tirelessly to bring peace and harmony to the community of God's angels. Today he was busy enough, and then Raphael made a request of him.

'Ambs.'

'Yes, Raphael,' responded Ambriel, looking up at his bigger brother.

'I have a task for you. A request from God, actually. Saruviel. He wants you to take a bit of an interest in him for a while. Chat with him. Hang around a bit. See if all is well with him.'

'Sure,' smiled Ambriel warmly. 'I'd love to do that.'

'Good. Thanks,' said Raphael, and returned to what he was doing.

Ambriel was happy. He loved all his brothers and sisters, and Saruviel as well. And it delighted him that God had given him this special task to watch over Saruviel. He wouldn't let him down, and would be careful and quiet and monitor Saruviel and report to Raphael whatever was happening. A good time to spend some quality time with his older brother, he thought happily to himself, as he returned to his task at hand and got on with his day.

Chapter Two

And time passed. And the Cherubim came to be. And Linda was a cherubim, and Saruviel had a fascination.

'Hey babe.'

'You again,' said Linda, looking at the Seraphim of Power. 'Wanting to rule the world, so they say. Don't ya.'

'Do you like girls?' asked Saruviel.

Linda looked at him squarely. 'And what is that supposed to mean?'

'Girls are a rush,' said Saruviel. 'I have the time of my life with the ladies.'

'You are a devil, arentcha,' she responded.

'Perhaps you could be one too,' he grinned. 'Takes a devil to know a devil,' he said.

She looked at him. 'No thanks. I have enough freedoms.'

'You really don't know what you are missing. I know these Cherubim girls. They'll do anything you want. Literally.'

'I'm sure they will,' said Linda. 'But I'm not interested.'

'Maybe some other time,' said Saruviel, and came over, kissed her on the forehead, and said. 'I want you Linda. For my team. I NEED you. Your one of the best. Noticed you right away.'

'Sure. I'm sure you did,' she said nervously, after being kissed by Saruviel.

'We'd be magic together,' said Saruviel.

'What's magic?' she asked him innocently. A voice in Saruviel's head went silent.

'Uh, nothing babe. Don't worry about it.' But, as he started walking away he turned to her. 'I'll be seeing you, babe. You can count on it.'

'Sure,' she said, and continued on with her raking up the leaves. But she looked at him as he walked away, and she thought on what he had said.

Daniel sat with Semambarel in the cafeteria of Zaphon, eating baked Langwah for dinner with vegetables.

'So. Semambarel. Caught up with Saruviel's agenda. What do you make of it, then?'

'You should know. Your an Evening Star, aren't you?'

'I think I'm a Morning Star now,' replied Daniel. 'Not sure if I like the direction Saruviel is headed in.'

'You'll always be an evening star, one way or another,' responded Semambarel, and took a sip of Melit water.

'You sure you agree with Saruviel?' asked the 45th male of the Seraphim.

'No. If you really must know, no. I'm not sure. And that is the point. I think, perhaps, I need to find out. To find out if I'm sure or not.'

'You think that is wise?' asked Daniel.

'You and Kantriel are still best friends,' said Semambarel. 'I don't see you objecting to his company.'

'We've had a parting of the ways, recently. A few months back. Valandriel and myself have taken up a friendship since then.'

'Oh, yes, Valandriel,' said Semambarel. 'He's probably good for you. Similar viewpoints. Likes your ideas, from memory. Thinks you have insight.'

'Thanks,' said Daniel, and sipped on his own Melit Water. 'I've always liked this Melit water, you know,' said Daniel. 'Pure. Good. The Melit fruit is lovely enough on its own, but the water juice from it is amazing.'

Semambarel looked at Daniel. He could tell when his brother was making a point.

'But Saruviel. Is he really Melit Water? Or something more difficult to palate?'

'Grog, perhaps,' said Semambarel, chuckling.

'Perhaps,' replied Daniel.

'Don't worry. I don't drink much,' said Semambarel, about the new alcoholic beverages that had been recently coming into the realm.

'But perhaps Saruviel does,' said Daniel.

Semambarel looked at him squarely. 'You know, Dan. Perhaps he does indeed.'

'Yes,' finished Daniel. 'Perhaps he does indeed.'

'Take a walk on the wild side, babe,' said Saruviel to Linda.

'You again,' she said. Linda was out in front of her Terraphoran abode, not far from the Sellawon river, a place she lived in on her own, not far from a place where she got her food resources. She gardened a fair bit, and was raking up leaves the last few weeks, as she liked a clean garden.

'Life with Number Seven is a rush, sweetie. I don't come on to every chick, you know. Very few, ok. Krystabel has never really tasted my charms. She's ok, but very square. God's idea, I think.'

'And you want to party,' smiled Linda.

'Sure you can provide the thrill as well,' said Saruviel. 'I've got some grog,' he said, lifting up two bottles of alcohol.

'Sure then. Come inside.'

They sat in the front room for some time, eating Langwah and drinking the grog, and Saruviel started making his move. He kissed her, then asked to see her breasts. And as his tongue caressed them, he talked her into unzipping. He tongued away at her Vagina, which usually caused a mild sensation of pleasure in women, and sometimes they felt quite strong sensations, and they made out. He even managed to talk her into returning the favour and, after five minutes of her tonguing his phallus, it got a little bit hard, which occasionally happened from such ministrations, and he had that rush of feeling that heavy lovemaking sometimes gave.

'I feel this sensation. In my loins,' he said. 'Don't stop babe.' And she kept at it for a while, but then it passed, and Saruviel knew it would be ages before he would feel such things again.

He kissed her. 'You were sweet. I love it when girls do that for you.'

'Any time,' said Linda.

As they got up, Saruviel ready to leave, he pinched her on the butt. 'Your hot, you know. Fancy you something shocking.'

'It must be love,' she said dryly. He grinned at that.

'Nah. Not love. Just lust. The good stuff in life.'

'I'm sure you actually mean that,' she said sarcastically.

'Unlike Michael, I admit the truth. And my fascinations.'

'I'm sure you do,' said Linda. 'Can I have the rest of the grog?'

'Be my guest,' he responded. 'Oh. One last thing. We're having a meeting. Next month on Galadon. Discussing the future of the movement. Are you interested?'

She looked at him and, finally, after the turmoil the issue had cost her in recent thoughts, shrugged. 'May as well,' she replied.

'Cheers,' responded Saruviel. 'But I'm sure we'll meet before then.'

'Let's hope so,' she responded, as he made his way out of her house and back to his own world.

She sat there, as the darkness encroached that afternoon, drinking the grog, and getting slightly drunk. What the heck was she getting herself into? What strange new world would Saruviel take her into? She kidded herself that she'd be fine, but a still, quiet voice said in the corner of her mind, are you sure you know what you are doing, girl. And, in all honesty, she could not say that she did.

'The Quest for holiness,' continued the speaker. 'The quest to be true to ourselves, above all else, is to know that we, in our own strength and being, are the equal of God and that we, in our own strength and being, are just as important and valid as God. His vanity is amazing, isn't it. Make himself the centre of Torah. As if all depends on himself, and we could not shit without him.'

That brought some giggles from the crowd.

'And I tell you, perhaps I could not give a shit about him, these days. He is a control freak. A being which must omnipotently push us around, like a grandmaster of Katchular, and not give one damn to our possible objections or that we might jolly well have our own damn idea on this or that, and that we might and can, and in fact DO think for ourselves.'

A cheer went up from the crowd and Linda, near the front of the audience on the Kalphon lawn watched her man anxiously. She'd heard a lot of this rhetoric in the last week especially, when he'd been coming around all the time, making love, and freely speaking his mind. But his passion in front of this crowd was amazing. She was hooked.

'No, I tell you. We are no longer so gullible as to believe everything the Lord God Almighty might have to say. We are free beings. And we are thinking beings. And the future is OURS!' he yelled, the last words carrying well around the grounds.

A cheer went up again, and Saruviel stood down from the dais, and people went up and crowded all around him.

He noticed her, and he waved to her, and Linda was entranced. Magnetic attraction at its most powerful – and seductive.

Later on, when the core of Saruviel's elite were inside his office in Kalphon, Saruviel was speaking.

'Soon, friends, we make our first decisive move. I'll let you know the details soon enough, but it won't be this cycle anyway. But soon enough. And thanks, everyone, for making it today. We sent a message today to Zaphon. A clear one. We're not their servants anymore. Their pawns no longer. The future is OURS friends. The future is ours.'

When everyone had left, Saruviel poured himself a glass of grog, and came and sat next to Linda on the couch.

'You were powerful today,' she said.

'Thanks,' he said.

'You looked – like a God,' she said.

He grinned a wry smile.

She kissed him on the cheek, then, and got down in front of him, opened up his clothing and took out his phallus, and she pumped it with her hand for a while, and then orally sucked him for ages.

And he was in heaven for a while, the King of his whole Universe. The Master of his whole Domain.

A sharp knife was in her hand. She held it, looking at the picture. He annoyed her, now. He did more than that – he upset her heart, the deepest part of her soul. He had betrayed her. Her standing in the community.

Krystabel took the sharp knife and, looking fiercely at Elenniel's ancient and famous picture of Saruviel, hacked at the canvas, and plunging hole after hole into the what must be startled expression of her brother she knew all to welll.

'Take that, bastard,' she said over and over again, extremely upset. The Painting didn't survive very long.

It was Ambriel, who had been sent by God very quickly, to go and see his sister, who found her in the corner of the Pelnaphon artroom, huddled down in a corner, next to the destroyed artwork, sobbing softly to herself.

'Kryssie,' he said very softly. 'It's ok. It's me, Ambriel.'

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. 'I hate him,' she said. Ambriel saw the destroyed picture of Saruviel, and knew instantly what to do. Carefully he picked up the picture, and the knife, and stored them out of sight, and then, returning to Krystabel, he helped her to her feet, and persuaded her to come to the emergency dorm of Pelnaphon, were an angel quickly attended her, giving her a bed, and looking to her welfare.

Ambriel sat with her.

'It's just,' she began. 'It's just that, well. I'm his twin. And will anybody ever respect either of us again? Oh, I love him. But he's gone off into something which is too big for him to handle. He doesn't know what he is getting himself into. And I'm suffering every day because of it.'

Ambriel put his arm around his sister to comfort her.

'It's ok,' he said. 'Everything will be ok. God is in control.'

She sniffled for a while and, eventually, starting to tire, rolled over and fell asleep. Ambriel watched her for some time, as she slept there, snoring very lightly, an Angel whose life had been torn apart. How many more angels would suffer as such under the wrath of Saruviel before this thing was over, he wondered to himself? How many more would find tears in their hearts and tears on their pillows? How many more broken souls? How many?

The Cherubim Noah was a revered Cherubim in the community. He had a way about him, a presence of character, and a devotion to God few other's managed. He was respected.

Yet Saruviel he did not respect, for the most part. In fact, for the most part, he disdained the fellow.

'What the heck is your problem, Seventhborn?' queried Noah, from the upper library lounge of Kalphon keep.

'Noah. I did not see you come in,' responded Saruviel.

'I came looking for you. Your recklessness has gone on long enough, big brother. I'm calling you to account.'

'To account for my beliefs, dear Noah? But they are only the truth. They are only the heart of what everyone wants in the end. You know.'

'I prefer God, his Torah and a clear understanding of what the creator requires of me,' responded Noah, sitting down opposite the angel. 'Do you have those priorities?'

'Obviously not,' responded Saruviel.

'Then I will say it,' said Noah. 'You are acting out of line. You are causing disharmony in the community, and angels are suffering because of your actions and deeds as well as your words. You need to get a grip on what you are really going on about, bro. Because nothing good will come of it.'

'You...JUDGE me?' queried Saruviel, an air of hostility in his voice. 'I only speak TRUTH fool.'

'Don't YOU call me fool. I may be younger than you, but my Torah knowledge probably already supersedes your own,' responded Noah.

Saruviel glared at him. 'Ok. What do you really want. If you think you have come to change my mind, think again. I won't be listening to the likes of you.'

'No. No, you won't, will you,' said Noah. 'Very well. Be stubborn. But I will pray, I tell you. Each day, until you are dealt with. And be it your own responsibility.'

'Go ahead, Noah. Pray.'

And Noah prayed. And Noah prayed.

Semambarel and Devuel were on the outer grounds of Kalphon keep, up the northern section, drinking grog and smoking tobacco.

'Love this stuff,' said Devuel, referring to the tobacco.

'It's ok,' said Semambarel. 'It makes me cough a lot, but I get a high when I smoke it. Feel really good for ages, but then my lungs start hurting if I smoke too much for too long, and I have to quit for a few months. The health angels say not to abuse the things. Could even kill you if you smoke them too much.'

'Kill us? I know what they say, the end of life. And God would have to bring you back. I mean, how does that happen?' asked Devuel.

'I have been told if you lost your head in an accident, or something else very severe happened to your body, you could die. It can kill you,' replied Semamberel.

'Devuel without a head?' thought Devuel to himself out loud. 'He might even make more sense that way.'

'I think I would have to agree,' said Luladiel, suddenly coming into view, approaching them from the keep.

'Hey babe,' said Devuel. 'Nice to see you again. Finally coming around to our point of view.'

'Saruviel's a nut,' said Luladiel.

'Or apparently not,' said Semambarel smiling.

'The only reason you, my dastardly twin,' said Luladiel to her twin Devuel of the Seraphim. 'The only reason you hang around Saruviel is to be cool. It is your ONLY motivation. To be one of the bad boys. Nothing to do with his beliefs, which you couldn't give two hoots about. Just your reputation.'

'You know me too well, babe,' replied Devuel, which got one of those looks from Luladiel which he knew all too well.

'Unfortunately, Yes,' agreed Luladiel, who sat down next to Devuel, took a bottle of grog, and started drinking.

'Daniel will be here soon, as well,' said Luladiel. 'Wanted you and Semambarel to know he has concerns, but that he can chill as well,' said Luladiel.

'We are not ALL Squares!' said Daniel out loud, coming over the small rise into view. He had grog with him, and two packs of Taylor Made cigarettes.

'Here,' he said, throwing a pack of ciggies in front of Devuel. 'Enjoy.'

'Awesome, Dan. About time you chilled again,' said Devuel.

'I ordered us some entertainment,' said Daniel. 'A lute player. Good one.'

Nadiel the Cherubim came into view a few moments later, carrying her lute, her prized possession, and as she started playing some of the classics and some of the newer tunes, they small group of Evening Stars, in the evening of eternity, enjoyed themselves, partied and, all things considered, had a jolly good time. And Saruviel's agenda was not even mentioned the once.

'Hey babe. She tastes good, doesn't she,' said Saruviel.

Linda lifted her head from between the legs of a cherubim girl. She had been engaged in – questionable activities - by the standards of society. 'Sure, sweetie,' she replied. 'Do you have a fag?'

'Better yet. Some dope,' he replied.

'Brilliant,' she said, and took a puff. She was high all night.

The following morning, the girls and the guys gone, she was alone in her bedroom when she woke. She went to the mirror and looked at herself. It was like another lady looking at her. Someone drugged up, high all the time, and out of their friggin minds. Literally. What the heck was she doing? Going Crazy?

'You look fine,' said Saruviel, coming into the bathroom. 'Woman always fuss too much about their looks.'

'I'm fucked up,' she said, looking at him honestly.

'Come on babe,' said Saruviel. 'What's life without a party? The girls are coming back over soon, and we have a fresh supply of grog.'

'I notice you never get to wasted,' she said sarcastically.

'Hey, I have to watch over a new movement. But my heart is with you,' he replied. Saruviel hardly ever touched serious grog or the other intoxicants.

He turned to her. 'You'll be out soon enough, right?'

Linda stared at him. This was it. Her life. Sure, she normally had something of a life. A now godforsaken twin who USED to visit her. A decent part-time job. Something to live for and be represented as in the community.

And now? An angel with a bad reputation, who looked even worse, and who felt? Well, enough to say who looked even worse. She was a wreck.

'Sure,' she replied to her dark lord. 'I'll be out later. Need to get some more sleep first.'

'I'll be in the other room,' he said. 'Look, don't worry babe. You'll be fine. Come on. It could hardly kill you.'

When he disappeared she looked again in the mirror and thought on his last comment. 'If only,' she thought sarcastically to herself. 'If only.'

Nadiel sat on the ground, her lute between her legs, dozing. It was cold, but she didn't really notice. She'd been partying, again, all night with the group, and Saruviel and Linda came and joined them last night. Nadiel felt her cherubim sister Linda had gotten a bit out of hand, and seeing her confirmed some of her fears. She looked a bit of a state, and the forced makeup was quite noticeable. She was a mess.

She woke, and the fire was still burning, the embers warming her feet, so she moved forward to gain some warmth, and wrapped her cardigan closely around her. Suddenly hands were there, putting her cardigan onto her, and putting a rug around her. It was Daniel.

'You know,' said the twin of Daniel the Cherubim, to Daniel the Seraphim. 'It might be ironic, but I think I like you more than my own twin. And your the SENIOR Daniel.'

Daniel smiled at her. 'Your a great girl yourself, Nadiel. I think we click in many ways. Lots in common, because Daniel and myself have similar ideas and sensibilities and something, as I said, just clicks between us. Chemistry, maybe, but respect I think. You appreciate intellectual sarcasm, and I like being appreciated properly.

She put her hand to her head, and giggled. 'Oh. And my winning personality?'

'You have a personality?' he asked her, and she laughed out loud. They did get along.

'Oh, shut up you two,' said Linda, opening bleary eyes. 'What time is it?'

'Morning. Just about,' said Daniel. 'Very early, but the light is coming in now.'

'Time for breakfast, sweetie,' said Saruviel, suddenly awake, to Linda.

'Oh, god no,' responded Linda. 'You'll only make me drink again.'

'Not this morning. Fried flapcakes and Honeyflower syrup. That's what I'll order for you from Kalphon's best cook.'

'Sound's tolerable,' said Linda, feeling a bit better.

'Are you sure you know what you are doing, Saruviel?' Daniel asked his older brother. 'I mean, all is well and good with the Freedom platform you maintain, but I didn't think your agenda was messing around with personal lives. Have you seen Linda's face? She's a wreck.'

Saruviel looked at her. 'She'll live,' he said sarcastically.

'Sure will,' replied Linda, and lit a cigarette from the burning fireplace.

'Yeh, she'll live,' said Daniel. 'But for how long?'

'Worry wart,' responded Saruviel, and kicked at Devuel and Semambarel, waking them.

'Come on, dudes. Farty face Daniel is preaching again.'

'What time is it?' asked a bleary faced Devuel.

'It's too early,' said Semambarel. 'Wake me in an hour.'

Saruviel shrugged, and as he stood and stretched, he looked at Linda. She did look a bit of a state, and he HAD noticed.

He turned to Daniel. 'You know. Don't worry Dan. I'll go easy on her today. Treat her right. I love her too, you know, bro.'

'Good to hear,' said Linda drowsily, getting to her feet.

As they stumbled off, the day starting to brighten, Daniel rested his head on Semambarel's legs, who was snoring loudly now, and said out loud. 'Another day of madness in the Realm of Eternity, hey Nads.'

She got up on his chest, kissed him on the mouth, and said 'And don't you love it.'

He kissed her back, and they woke Semambarel, and soon were chasing down the others, looking forwards to Kalphon's breakfast menu for the day.

But it wasn't enough for Saruviel, a freedom platform, and some preaching of his views. It was action he wanted. And then they missed assembly. And then some work duties. And then, separating, and not joining in with any of the regular activities. And, as time passed to Linda, whose face wore more and more the marks of what she only called decadence in her lifestyle, she came to realize that freedom without responsibility was a life which ended in pain. And she was suffering every day in the freedoms she now allowed for herself. Every single day.

They'd had their game of Chulara, or Katchular as it was traditionally called, and Saruviel had made it clear enough to Michael his views and the lengths he would go to to defend his freedom, and then God had spoken to Michael and told him his own judgement impending under the words of Raguel. And Michael had no real choice but to accept them.

'A Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil,' God had said to Michael in a dream. 'And some partake far too soon.'

Michael was in Zaphon keep, on the ground floor, in the ancient small lounge area, sitting there, thinking. Just thinking.

Michael of the Seraphim was the firstborn angel of Eternity. In his life so far he had seen much and done much. But in all of that, the kind of rebellion, as it was called, that Saruviel and his cohorts were engaged in at the moment, was unprecedented. It had never happened like this before. Perhaps minor glimpses of such realities, in the same players even – but never such an extreme. Never.

And Michael didn't like it.

He was orderly, and lawful and complied with Torah and knew the wisdom and truth of God and that life was balanced on obedience to God and his will and, more importantly than anything else, knowing the eternal deity. Knowing him with all the strength within you. Because then you could emulate him, and grow in trust knowing his power and strengths. Which is were Saruviel threatened him for, in many ways, with all this talk of freedom and doing your own will, it only appeared to be the direct opposite of Torah and the opposite of all the sound wisdom Michael knew in his heart to be true. But it was oh, so alluring. Forbidden fruit, apparently, from his dream. Oh, so alluring.

He knew now, knowing the impending judgement of God, that Saruviel was getting what he deserved. That deep in the heart of Saruviel had been life lessons taught by God his father which Saruviel had both neglected and, in fact, ignored. Saruviel did not want to KNOW his God's opinion on these subjects and, further, he did not even CARE. He was his own angel, now, God had made apparent to Michael. And while that was, in the end, not necessarily a bad thing, the kind of reckless ambition that Saruviel was pursuing his ambitions of freedom for all with, well. Well in the judgement of God no good could come of it.

And yes, Saruviel would know that judgement soon enough.

Michael felt, in a strange way, lucky. Perhaps it was luck or, perhaps, it was just the way he had been born. The way God had made him. As if the fundamentals of Michael the Seraphim were not the choices of Michael the Seraphim, but a heart, fashioned in the eternal life of the wisdom of God, which knew the kind of decisions Michael would already make. And that Michael, when he made his choices, was only choosing as such because that was what he already was in his heart. That his lifelong decisions only ever reflected the wisdom of God in the way that God had made him.

But what then of how God had fashioned Saruviel?

What then?

No matter, the judgement had come and thus, Michael must verily assume, Saruviel was guilty. He must be. And so, for the next while, awaiting the judgement of God, Michael would act calmly, regularly, and not really voice his opinion on this matter again, till the judgement came. And then he need not speak any more regardless. It would be known to all.

He sat there, on a couch, thinking, looking into the space of Zaphon keep, oblivious to all, heavy thoughts in heart, heavy thoughts in his soul. Another day in the life of Archangel Michael, Firstborn Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity.

Saruviel sat in the darkness. Ever downwards, the dreams had told him. To be taken ever downwards and then, rest. Into a darkness which would be his abode. In a darkness that would be his resting place, from thence, till the judgement of God waned, if ever should such a think come to pass. For he had pronounced no time limit to his punishment, had the father of Glory, yet not pronunced it truly eternal. And thus, he waited in the darkness, Ambriel now visiting occasionally, speaking solitary words of the Realm, as he and Kantriel and Daraqel and the others dwelt there, in the darkness, that deathly night being their only friend.

He dreamed away most of the day, for there was nought else to occupy his time with, and conversation had run dry betwixt the fallen. They knew they had been judged, and sat there, doing their time of punishment, not knowing the days of the wrath of God, not knowing the days of their forgiveness, if ever a thing should be.

Saruviel burned for a while, in his pride. His pride defeated after some months of quiet, obvious now they would not be so soon forgiven, he sat there now stewing in revenge somewhat, but that too was dissipating. Mainly now just suffering. And questioning. Yet again, questioning. And an obvious truth became more so. He might speak of freedom. He might speak of absolute rights and sovereign wills, but there was one, undeniable, immutable, absolute utter truth, now, to his existence. God. And God did not necessarily view the matter with the enlightened wisdom of Saruviel.

Perhaps he had been foolish. He had cast that idea aside at first, knowing his wisdom infallible. But then, if infallible, why had it failed. Why had not – God – seen it his way?

So he suffered, and questioned, and, in this millennial abode of self-inquiry, forced by the hand of the Most High, he even contemplated, just a little, the wisdom of that God who had punished him so. Just a little, mind you. Just a little.

Linda looked in the mirror. It was gone, now, seemingly. Her youthfulness. And, perhaps, another intimate part of her being as well. But the best of her was still there, Linda still looked out proudly in reflection, now changed a great deal, now, strangely, a little older, a little wiser, a little more alert to the machinations of Saruviel the Dreaded One. When the judgement came, she had been much like the rest of them. Unprepared, shocked and a dismayed. But it was ironic. Life – simply – went on. Whatever would be, had been, and life – simply – went on. And she, with no Saruviel calling on her every other day, returned to something of a semblance of her normal routine. Her looks gradually improved, even though she still drank a bit. Her smell also improved, although the skin still suffered a bit from tobacco rash when she indulged too much. Yet, all in all, things were getting better. Things were getting better.

Her twin visited her the other day. Said hello. Said she looked better. She took that as a compliment. And she got her working position back, the part-time labour she did for the Ream, which was what usually earned her keep. She got back to it, and life, as she knew it, seemed to gradually be returning to its regular hum and drum. She was over most of it.

But still something lingered.

It was as if, in the heart of Linda the Cherubim, a fire had been lit, which had one word written on it. 'SARUVIEL'. And that fire would not be quenched by a sudden judgement, or a current departure from the realm. It would take more than that – much more – to do away with the magnetic hold the personality of Saruviel the Seraphim held on Linda the Cherubim.

Yet, for now, she had peace. For now, she had rest. And as the Realm of Eternity indeed got back to a semblance of order it had once known, she thanked God for small mercies. And, finally, for a decent night's sleep.

The End

"Gabriel and Aquariel"

Chapter One

Four weeks after the wedding of eternity, Gabriel was sitting by the Terravon. Nearby was Aquariel, throwing bread at the swans who were swimming around. She looked over at him, smiled and waved, and turned back to the swans. They were close at the moment – very close. The wedding between Michael and Elenniel had touched them, changing them. They were deeper now – deeper in their friendship – closer as brother and sister. And he found something, something in the deep of night, which spoke to his heart. Something of love and commitment, one that would endure, not just temporarily, but eternally. One that, through the hard times, and through the good times, would always march on, never forgetting the beauty of love and the beauty of the God which had birthed it. Aquariel had spoken in similar ways, and they had laughed together at the irony of thinking such similar thoughts.

Daniel was close by, sitting with Ariel. At the moment they were an item, but nobody expected it to last forever, not even Daniel from what he had said personally to Gabriel. But for the moment he would enjoy his twin.

Aquariel finished feeding the swans and came and sat next to him on the bench. She put her hand in his and leaned on his shoulder. 'You're sweet,' she whispered to him.

'I know,' he responded with a subtle grin, whereupon Aquariel punched him lightly on the shoulder and said 'You vain thing,' and Gabriel laughed.

It was a pleasant afternoon for the small group of 6 angels, very pleasant indeed. Cosadriel and Oshanel came and sat down next to Gabriel and Aquariel, Cosadriel a little wet from the swim he had just taken.

'He was trying to be a hero,' said Oshanel. He found this tree trunk crossing over much of the Terravon down stream and tried to jump from the end of it to the other side. He fell in, naturally.'

'Accidents happen,' said Gabriel.

'Hey it's only water,' responded Cosadriel. 'Besides, I nearly made the distance, and it was a fair few cubits.'

'Still training for that long jump, are you?' asked Aquariel.

'Glory for Iceland,' responded Cosadriel. 'Besides, I know that bloody Cherubim has his limits. I'll beat him eventually.'

'Daranok is naturally talented,' said Gabriel. 'He is an athlete by nature. Perhaps no matter how hard you work he will always come back at you and edge you out.'

'Maybe,' said Cosadriel, but had not really conceded that.

'I always thought Azrael was your biggest worry,' said Aquariel.

'Oh, believe me he still is,' responded Oshanel. 'But Saddy is competitive and tries to beat everyone if he can. It is just his ego, sis. Just his ego.'

'It is not my bloody ego, ok. I am just competitive by nature. It is how he made me, ok.'

'Probably,' responded Gabriel. 'But ego can be a big motivator in many ways. We often try to live up to outrageous claims we have made, no matter how foolish they might later be.'

'Very wise,' said Oshanel. 'I think Saddy does perhaps suffer from that.'

'Perhaps,' responded Cosadriel.

'Well, are we finished here,' Oshanel asked Gabriel.

'I guess,' he responded. 'I'll let Daniel and Ariel know.'

The six of them, finished for the afternoon, made there way into the large car and they started off for Terraphon. Reflecting upon the afternoon Gabriel sighed to himself. It was a pleasant enough day in Eternity, a happy little diversion from everyday life. But the affairs of Terraphon beckoned tomorrow and council was coming up very shortly, a time of great hectic responsibility. 'On with another day,' he thought to himself.

Chapter Two

Aquariel looked at the picture of Michael and Gabriel. It was an old picture now, thousands of years in fact. He noticed how they had not really changed in appearance but Gabriel seemed, in some ways, less worried in this picture. Perhaps it was a time of less responsibility, lesser worries, lesser concerns. A happier time of youth. Suddenly she wanted to be with him, to comfort him. To let him know everything was alright, that all was good. That all was at peace. She ran to his office, opened the door, and saw him sitting at his desk, a frown on his face. Coming around he looked up and she put her arms around his shoulder, comforting him.

'Is all well Gabriel,' she asked.

He sighed, put down his pen, and responded, 'Oh, you know. Work. Frustrating as ever, and often a pain in the neck. But that is life, isn't it. The responsibilities that God has given us to do.'

'But we don't need to work all the time, brother. You have many delegates you can pass your responsibilities on to if you wish. Why don't we go away for a while, just you and me. Somewhere up north, somewhere we can relax. Escape from things. Enjoy life.'

He looked at her, seriously considering her offer, when a little voice in his mind whispered to him, 'It will be ok. Go on, spoil yourself.'

'You're on Aqua. I'll just finish up with this and we can go pack.'

She took his pen from his hand, saying, 'Enough is enough Gabriel. We go now. You have had enough, I can tell. Time for a break.'

'If you insist.'

Gabriel looked at his desk as Aquariel pulled him along, a little worried, but then realized he had competent help. They were not stupid, after all, and could handle things for now. Time for a break – time for a holiday – time to let go of things for a while and simply be himself. Simply be Gabriel the Seraphim.

The cabin was all a log cabin really should be, Gabriel thought to himself, just grateful there was in fact running water and toilet facilities. After having looked it over, he had sat on the bed and watched as Aquariel swept the floor, giving it that feminine touch. After they had unpacked Aquariel asked him to go outside and chop some wood. Picking up the axe he realized to himself that it had been a hell of a long time since he had in fact chopped any wood and was a little worried he might hurt himself. But after he had split three or four of the logs, he was starting to get the hang of it. Aquariel came outside and watched him for a while, before making her way out into the forest, yelling she was going to collect mushrooms and whatever else she could find. He chopped wood for about an hour, building up perhaps more than they would need, but realizing they were there for a month and might need a lot. As he walked to the cabin he noticed out the back some other chopped wood and coming around to look at it properly he noticed there were literally tonnes of it – over a years supply easily. He smiled to himself, thought on the irony, but just put the wood on the pile anyway. Aquariel suddenly appeared, came over to him and also looked at the wood. 'You haven't done that much, have you?' she asked incredulously.

Gabriel thought quickly, 'Oh. Oh, uh, yeh. Bloody hell it was hard work,' he responded, wiping his brow.

She eyed him suspiciously, but didn't comment any further.

They ate the mushrooms with wine and the bacon which was in the esky of food they had brought with them. 'I will go into town tomorrow and do a proper food shop,' said Aquariel. 'Perhaps you could finally start that new novel you have been putting off for the last 10,000 years.'

Gabriel considered that and nodded. There was a computer in the flat and it was as good as time as ever to write a book. He had a few ideas for the original title, 'The Final Encounter,' but hadn't completely finished the plot in his mind. But he could work on it now and see what came forth.'

They slept well that night, the worries of Terraphon disappearing in the Alpine winter air, and Gabriel was at peace. A gentle happy peace.

Chapter Three

'Interesting.' She put the manuscript onto her knees, and smiled at him. But interesting was all she said.

'Well do you like it? It took me all day that chapter practically.'

'Yes, it is good. You write well, naturally really. I am just concerned that it doesn't seem much of a plot. It starts slowly and doesn't really allude to anything major coming. I mean, what is it all about?'

'Oh, there is a plot alright. And starting slow is how this book is meant to be. But is the writing any good? The language I mean?'

'About the same as most fiction books I have read. There aren't any grammatical problems and the dialogue is realistic. I mean you could probably publish the finished book if it was all like this and get a decent readership, but you will need some interesting ideas.'

'Then don't worry about it. The end of chapter two should give you the hint.'

The following day, having just finished the second chapter, Aquariel had a slightly different look on her face than yesterdays, but not yet any great sign of enjoyment. 'What is that supposed to mean, at the end of the chapter. I don't understand that. You don't think that.'

'No, I don't, not at all. But the character does, ok. You'll see.'

'Ok. But, yeh, it was more of the same, but looks interesting now. I'll read the next chapter.'

Aquariel was starting to think her brother might just have a book which would catch people's attention. Really catch their attention. It was the third chapter, now, and suddenly the book had really come alive with a plot twist she really had not seen coming. And now she was hooked. She wouldn't call him brilliant, not yet. But now understanding the first two chapters, she started to see why it had gone slow. He was a smart thinker, her brother. A very smart thinker.

Chapter Four

"Too good. Really, Gab. Too good. Perhaps the best I have ever read, and I have read too many."

"I guess it was worth the effort, then."

"You see, a holiday has done you the world. Refreshed you. Rejuvenated you, and I think you really did need it."

"Do you think I should release it on the web, now? Just put it up on my website?"

"Don't you want the royalties? It will make good money, you know."

"Oh, I will have it published in paperback as well. But I will give it for free first on the web and see what readership it gets. It might even sell more in the end because of it."

"Not a bad idea,' responded Aquariel.

The last few days of that month were a pleasant time of rest and recreation for Gabriel and Aquariel and Gabriel kissed his sister telling her he loved her as they arrived home in Terraphon. It had really been a soul restoring vacation and he was in a very good mood because of it.

Chapter Five

"Number one. Not bad, Gab. Not bad."

Gabriel smiled at Aquariel. The news reader had just made the announcement of that weeks best selling novels and Gabriel had come in at number one with 'The Final Encounter'. He had only released a few books previously, and well before such charts had become a reality, but gaining a number one had really made him pleased. He leaned over, kissed his sister, and said 'I couldn't have done it without you, Aquariel. I couldn't have done it without you.'

'I know,' she responded, and Gabriel laughed.

THE END

"Aquariel – Witches and Warlocks"

"Very funny, Aqua. Besides, you can't call it that. God is really not the biggest fan of witches and warlocks, as you should know. He kills them down there."

"Oh, they never do that. It is just how strict he can get if he wants to."

"I don't know. From what I have heard in Europe they have started doing that. The church is getting very serious about God's laws these days."

"They are way over-reacting if they are. Most of the witches I have observed through the portals are harmless now. Nothing like they used to be. They are old women who just like to dabble – a bit of fascination with the dark arts. Hardly a devotion to evil like in the old days. Besides, most of them have heard of God and a lot believe. It really is not the same. Really not the same."

"Be that as it may, I don't think Zaphon will approve. I might be wrong, I mean I know they are a pretty tolerant bunch these days, but I doubt it."

"We'll see,' responded Aquariel to her brother Gabriel's objections. 'We'll see."

He had considered the request for so long now, three and a half years, and Michael had finally consulted his father who had remained silent. No comment, not one word. And when he had declared that, after considering Aquariel's detailed philosophical rationalities for the permission of the text and told his God he would approve unless he commented otherwise, God had still remained silent. And so, not really knowing what to ultimately think or say, Michael, ever so slowly, signed the approval document and the deed was done. But he was cautious, most cautious.

"So what. So what. I mean, really, so what." But despite his best manageable grim façade, Gabriel was softly smiling at her. The final Encounter had not debuted at number one, but reached it after a few weeks. But Aquariel, after so long never putting pen to paper, and debuting at number one on the bestseller chart, had been bragging a little to her brother about her success. And now, the third week in a row, Gabriel was starting to get a little riled.

"If you think it is bad now," she continued, "Wait for the sequel. I reckon I can make the all time best selling list within a decade on it."

"Dream on. You will never take Daniel. All he worries about these days is competing with himself."

"So what if he owns the top 10."

"Top 24 at last count, from memory. Michael worked hard for that 25th slot. Really, he worked bloody hard."

"But Daniel has not seen the power of a woman."

"Good luck, sis. I think you will need it."

But Aquariel just went on in her heart plotting further adventures of wizards and warlocks and dungeons and dragons, fantasies of glory flooding her mind.

THE END

"The Gabriel Agenda"

"Gabriel, hey. Mmm. That could be a challenge. He's not bad at chulara now. Almost has potential, for a Seraphim that is."

"Stop bragging Daniel. You know the Seraphim ARE older than us Cherubim. How about a little respect."

Daniel the Cherubim smirked, but listened to his twin Nadiel's comment anyway. 'Yes, okay. I will only beat him by a little bit, then. How about that?'

"Whatever. You never know, he might knock you off your perch."

"Hey, I have been number one long enough. The kid's got buckley's and none."

"Pride cometh before the fall, oh high one."

"I'll make sure to be humble. Now Gabriel, huh. I'll have to think about this. Work on his gameplan. Study it for a while. He seems pretty basic, really. But maybe he's improved enough to give me a few seconds of concentrated effort. But we'll see."

"Yes, we will,' responded Nadiel the Cherubim.

"Schmuck. Hundreds of years and bragging and he kicks your ass. I don't think he was even trying. Like it was child's play to him."

"Shaddup."

"Har, har, har. So tumbles down the kingdom of Daniel the Cherubim. That will teach you to be proud."

"Hey, I was going easy on him. Not even trying, really. I think, perhaps, deep down there was some insane psychological reason, call it Karma, call it fate, call it – well – whatever. But there was something saying go easy on the fellow. He is trying, after all."

"Yeh right. Dream on. You just weren't good enough."

"Mmm. Perhaps. But I am still ranked number one, don't forget. Everyone has his bad day. I think he needs to beat me about 5 or 6 times with his current ranking to take my slot."

"Well, you will have to study then."

"Yes, I will. This Gabriel – I think he is on the Agenda now. Work that bugger out and next time, well, watch out."

"Good luck. I think you might need it."

"We'll see. We'll see."

THE END

"Veldona and Shemrael"

"Veldona picked up the poetry book again, sat down on her bed, and started reading. But immediately Shemrael burst into their room and asked her to follow her downstairs. A crowd was gathered. Phanuel was in the centre of the crowd, locked in an arm wrestle with a male cherubim. Veldona turned to Shemrael and asked her, 'How long has this been going on?'

'Too long. Nearly 20 minutes.'

Veldona considered the situation and said, 'Don't you think it about time we ended their macho fascinations.'

'Go ahead,' said Shemrael.

So Veldona came forward, put her hand on the struggling competitors and said, 'Enough.' Phanuel and the cherubim looked at her, shrugged their shoulders, and finally stopped. The crowd chuckled and finally dispersed.

Veldona and Shemrael, making their way to a small lounge, sat down and started talking. 'Really, shouldn't Phanuel know better,' said Veldona.

'But boys will be boys,' replied Shemrael.

'But he is overseer of Romnaphon keep. He has a standard to maintain.'

'But even Phanuel need to let off steam from time to time, Veldona. We all do. Remember, nobody's perfect.'

But Veldona, being Veldona, disagreed.

Later on that year, Veldona perhaps learned a lesson that Shemrael had prayed she would. She was outside in the gardens of Romnaphon keep, it was a hot summer day, and suddenly a cherubim threw a water balloon at her, exploding and splashing on her head. She looked at him, mad as hell, noticed the pile of water balloons he had made and ran over, stole a few before he could stop her, and threw one, it exploding on his head. They ended up throwing all the water balloons at each other, Veldona starting to laugh, when Shemrael appeared, looked at Veldona and asked, 'Is such a thing really that appropriate for Veldona the Cherubim?'

And Veldona smiled, looked at her and said, 'Well nobody's perfect.' And they both burst out laughing.

THE END

'Linda on Fire'

'Fire! Burning, furious, flaming, glorious fire!'

'And then, Saruviel. And then?' asked Linda, anticipating her Lord's next words.

'And then, in the fire of life's glory, the phoenix arises and destroys her opponents. It rises, in beautiful glory, putting to death all who would oppose her majestic brilliance. For she is undefeatable in her glory. Undefeatable.'

'Yes Lord,' said the child of God, her innocent eyes staring up at her master. 'Master, can I please you now? Can I give you what you desire?'

The dark Lord Saruviel looked down at his young prodigy. 'You may, child of mine. You may.'

She had served him, yet again, for a year now. Served him in his master bedroom, serving his most carnal and sensual desires. Being his servant of lust, his servant of fire.

And she felt him in her. His fire, his strength, his purpose, his grand vision. His lust for supremacy over the universe. And, deep inside that fire, deep inside that lust, a darkness. A sovereign, malevolent, darkness, full of vengeance towards all that would oppose it. The Darkness of sovereign Life itself. And, knowing the furious glory which would one day be hers, knowing the absolute sovereign power of that dark fury, she would serve her master. She would serve him, obey him, and follow in his footsteps to the pinnacle of Majestic Glory. And never would she be persuaded otherwise.

Michael smiled to himself. Life had its… Ironies. It had its ironies. For the fury of a soul unbridled would challenge all, defeat all, and claim sovereignty. And who dare would oppose? But Michael knew something that was true. He was on the side of this sovereignty. He was in Allegiance to the power of Absolute Life and, sensing it in him as well, but in a different manner, one in which it really brooked no jealousy of the other one, one which was content, at peace and calm with itself, serving those children of God who needed a rock, an anchor of stability, a calm, gentle mooring of the soul in the turbulence of the seventh one's passions, he felt happy with himself and the way things were. And he knew the truth, the truth which God spoke to his heart in the calm still of night – 'The head must be responsible, child of mine. For amongst the vibrant waters of lifes passions, the calm still voice is a solace of stability which all need in the end. So be that voice, dear Michael. Be that voice.'

She was up on stage, overlooking those gathered at the Kalphon stadium. Kalphora's coolest Kids had turned out for the show to see the latest star of Glory the Realm had to offer. She was number one now, on the Realm charts. Number one pop princess. And known as 'The Phoenix' she had burned through her opposition, her vibrant sound electrifying the hearts and minds of her audience. Saruviel was here tonight, out the back, lost in his usual thoughts. She desired to please her master. To serve him, to display the glory he had placed in her heart. She desired to please the object of her affections and to show him just what Linda the Cherubim could achieve. Her glory would be eternal – she knew that in her heart – she knew that, so truly, in her heart. And tonight she would display her glory, and all would acknowledge her majestic brilliance. All would bow to the glory of Linda the Cherubim.

The Dark Lord smiled to himself. It was time. He went out on stage, interrupted Linda, and took the microphone. And then he started singing his new 'Heavy Metal' song, 'Alive with the Fire'. And the crowd adored it all.

'I don't want to be like every other girl in the world, Saruviel. I don't want to be like every other one who wants you. I want to be first, Saruviel. I want to be first.'

'Something inside me burns when I see you perform, Linda. Something inside me burns.'

'Oh baby. How about some hot action?' replied Linda.

'Give it to me baby, uh huh.'

'Oh, your mine baby. Your mine.'

"Sharakondra"

"Bastard."

"Oh, Fugg you," responded Semyaza to his twin Sharakondra.

"Come on, you never take me anywhere these days. All the Fugg I get from you for excitement is a touch up once a week, and sometimes you are too pissed too even take care of me properly."

He looked at her, thinking about that. "Well I can take care of you now sweetheart. I'm in the mood."

"Cretin."

"Heh, heh, heh."

"Pleeeasse. Can we go shopping. I want to buy a new handbag."

"I think I'm broke. Spent it all on booze."

"Oh, no. You're not broke."

"Huh. What gives?"

"That wallet you lost last month." She picked it out of her handbag. "I found it, and there are heaps of credits. Definitely enough for a new handbag for your beloved."

Semyaza tried to grab the money, but she kept it out of reach.

"Hand it over, Shara. Bloody hand it over."

"Not unless you take me shopping." He thought that over, and looked at his twin, a slight nudge in his heart from an unknown source.

"Yeh, ok then. Have it your way." She smiled and walked towards her room.

"I'll just go change."

"Don't be forever putting on your makeup."

"Hey, a girl has to look good," she shouted from her room.

"Pity you never do," he said to himself.

"What was that?" she yelled.

"Nothing," he responded.

"Good. I'll be out shortly.

2 hours later, she came out of the room, finally satisfied with her make up and looked at Semyaza. He had fallen asleep. "Wake up sleepy head," she said, giving him a not too friendly shout."

The sleeping Semyaza was dreaming and said in his sleep, "No, she's my girl. Go get your own."

Sharakondra looked at him suspiciously but let it go and gave him another shove. This time he woke up.

"Uh, you're ready, huh. Ok, I'll get the keys."

Pushing the shopping trolley around the mall which had amazingly filled up with more than just a handbag, Sharakondra having also found his missing credit card, Semyaza was anything but happy. He didn't recognize too many of his Cherubim brothers and sisters, but one of them gave a slight grin watching him push the trolley. After having sat on the bench for yet another two hours, the day getting on, Sharakondra finally appeared from the dress shop, 4 large bags in her hands.

"For Christ's sake, how much did you Fugging spend?"

"Oh, only a few dollars."

"A few dollars my arse."

"Here, you can have this back," she said, handing him the credit card.

"I suppose you'll want to eat now."

She smiled at him. "Oh, Semmy. You are so sweet."

Despite only being fast food, Sharakondra enjoyed the meal, and as they drove home she was in a good mood. Of course she knew she couldn't spend her twin's money forever as he wasn't made of money, she knew that deep, deep down in that carnal heart of his he loved her and would give her whatever she wanted if she really insisted. Why he was her twin, she thought to herself.

That night, as his treat, she kissed him very passionately, tongues entwined, and gave him what he wanted from her. She was happy, now. The clothes were what she wanted and Semyaza had promised to take her out again on the weekend to a fine restaurant. All in all things were good and Sharakondra was a happy little angel – a happy little angel of God.

THE END

"Krystabel and the Clock of Eternity"

'Time moves forward. Onward, onward we go, Kryssie. Onward, ever onwards, neverending in a lake of neverending time, covering all that will be, leaving behind all that has been, and, yet, ever in the present, never being in the past and never being in the future.'

Krystabel thought on her brother Cimbrel's words about the Clock of Eternity, located on the back wall of the throneroom of Zaphon, and asked him another question.

"As we are Children of Destiny, dearest Cimbrel, are we victims to a plan of time, a plan in which we flow neverendingly forward and onwards, victims to the will and power of one greater than us?"

"Perhaps you should seek the illuminations of Davriel for such philosophical inquiries, dear sister. Or perhaps even Adruel or Rophiel who also may be able to help you. I simply study time and how we flow on endlessly, seemingly at a common rate of understanding and appreciating it, measured in our beloved hours, minutes and seconds.'

'Can time stop? Can we travel through time? So many of those newer science fiction and fantasy novels that come out these days express such fascinating ideas? Are they fact or are they simply entertaining fiction for our enjoyment?'

Cimbrel sat down on one of the seats in the throneroom, considering that idea. 'It is hard to say, Krystabel. It is hard to say with any absolute certainty. Our heavenly Father is the creator of all things. All that comes forth has arisen out of his divine and benevolent heart. Yet, as we all know, it has flowed from him in his consistency in the medium of time and, seemingly, how all such creation will continue to flow ever onwards. Perhaps time travel is just a fantasy – perhaps that is all it is, for how can we truly change the unchangeable past. But I can not say for I am a simple angel of modest intelligence.'

Krystabel placed her hand on his shoulder. 'You are by no means of modest intelligence, dear brother.'

'Thank you.'

As she sat, just behind the throne, staring at the clock, Cimbrel having just left, Krystabel thought on the mysteries of time. 'On we go, ever onwards,' she thought to herself. 'Ever onwards. And were shall it end dear father,' she asked,' looking behind her at the throne, which suddenly flickered to bright purple. 'Were indeed shall it end,' she again said to herself.

The Clock of Eternity was an idea of God. It was a clock, in his intentions, to measure the infinite, unending future before the Angels of Glory, to give them an appreciation of each hour and day, and each month and year which it also measured. Such a thing as the measuring of time, in God's understanding, would give the angels a sense of stability. A sense of everyday consistency and continuity, not besides the fact that it was an excellent tool for organising their time on a daily basis. And while the Father of Glory reminded himself to never brag of his accomplishments, he was quietly pleased with himself about the creation of the clock and often deliberately observed its unending flow from the throne of his glory.

Krystabel sat in her room, at a desk, in Kalphon keep and looked over the poem she had just finished composing. A poem dedicated to the clock of eternity. Reading it again she read:

Time in Motion, by Krystabel the Seraphim

Time in motion, Seraphim delight

Glory in our days, passion in our night

Time in motion, Neverending joy

A glorious delight for every girl and boy

The Clock of Eternity, Fathers great design

Flowing ever onwards, throughout the sands of time

The Clock of Eternity, Fathers precious will

Guiding us each day, and I suppose it always will

Time in motion, measuring our days

Helping us to organise in many different ways

Time in motion, a simple useful joy

A glorious delight for every girl and boy

She smiled to herself, liked the poem, and thought that she might just put it up on the web on her website. But when she would, well time would only tell.

'Bantriel the Seraphim'

"France will never surrender, I tell you. We will fight you English devil's forever and a day if that is what it takes."

'Calm down Bantriel. Calm down froggie.'

'Sariel, you never cease to amaze me, you know. Not only has France defeated you for the last century at your beloved football which you mistakenly claim to be the best at, but we kick your smelly English ass at Tennis time after time. An Englishman good at Tennis? Why that is like a German claiming they are good at lovemaking. I mean all those German grunts and moans – really, their women must think they are making love to beasts.'

Sariel grinned at that – after all a good Englishman never minded insulting the Germans. It was fair sport as far as he was concerned.

'Lighten up on the Germans. They are your neighbours after all.'

'Yes, and don't we know it. But, back to the main point, our wager my fine English friend. I have the utmost confidence in our team, now. We have trained a long time at this 'Cricket' you find so fascinating and we are ready to enter the competition. I have confidence we will win the first series against you, at least 4 – 1. If you are so confident, then put your money where your mouth is. Sariel looked at his French neighbour and thinking on some of the words Bantriel had just spoken came to another decision. Tell you what. If you manage to beat us at all I will pay you your money, but in return you must play the Germans at the game. They are getting good now. But if they beat you in response you must pay me back the wager ten times over. Do we have an agreement?' Bantriel considered this idea, thought about the Germans who were not as good as the English, and felt it worth the risk. 'You have a deal, English swine. Prepare to be humiliated.'

'I will prepare,' responded Sariel.

It was another side to Gamrayel from Narel's viewpoint. After having heard the insult Bantriel had made to Sariel about German lovemaking Gamrayel had fumed, determined to not only beat the French should they lose to the English, but utterly humiliate them. And the overseer of Germany in Terraphon, while never ever really one given over to competition, started bowling that afternoon, a vengeful look on his face. 'You better watch out Bantriel,' was all that Narel thought to herself.

'But why must you continue to be so rude to Sariel and Gamrayel. Really, we have been neighbours for so long now that such a tirade is getting tiring, Bantriel. Truly tiring.' Bantriel considered his twin, Ashayziel's words, but almost completely disregarded them. 'Oh, it is only playful banter, Ashy. It is only playful banter, and I think both Sariel and Gamrayel understand that.'

'But I think you often offend them none the less without really realizing it. We are Seraphim, you know. That has always supposed to mean something. That we set a standard of decency for our younger Cherubim brethren. They look up to us, you know. They still do and probably always will. Perhaps your words could be toned down somewhat. Still be competitive, but with less hostility. A little more friendly, okay.'

He considered that, nodded to her, thought about being stubborn in his reply, but generally conceded the point. 'Perhaps I have been too hard on them for too long. Yes, we are brothers – that is important. I guess we must get along forever, so rivalries should be tolerable.'

'Yes. Friendly. No viciousness, which is not fit for an angel. But kindness, even if you must use humour.'

'Very well. I shall apologize to Sariel and Gamrayel. I will let them know I was only having a go.'

'Very good,' replied the ninth born of the female Seraphim of Eternity.

But try as he might, and while Gamrayel did in fact forgive his brother, he would keep his grudge and kick Frances ass at the cricket match arranged. They would have their bitter vengeance and treat France a lesson. A lesson Bantriel would not forget.

They were reluctant but at Sariel's request England went terribly soft on the French in the series and lost it 3 – 2. Bantriel didn't brag quite as much as he had done before and received Sariel's money happily. But Sariel was present the following week at the match against the Germans and, game finished, Bantriel had to sign a cheque as he had not enough cash on him to fulfil his obligations. 'England thanks you very much, dearest Bantriel. We will put you're money to good use, let me assure you of that.'

'Well it is only money, Sariel. And we did defeat your land of glory after all.'

'That you did. And well played – France performed well.'

Later on that week Bantriel had been on a little sabbatical, up in Northern Terraphora, reflecting on his commitments made to his God earlier in life and the Torah which had faithfully promised his father to study. And reading through some of the words he realized that, perhaps, for a while he had been coming up short of the standard he needed to be setting. But, thinking that, and thinking over the eternal future of France before him, he decided that it was time for a general change in the French attitude. One more of love, kindness and friendliness. Not so much bragging and hostility, especially towards their English neighbours who had grown sick of the attitude. Yes, France would change, they would grow and mature, and in the destiny before him he silently prayed to his God for a blessing of glory upon his beloved French people. A blessing which would last for all eternity.

"Matrel and the Diviner of Untold Miseries."

It was haunting. Truly haunting. He had never yet been to the gypsy's tent at the Romnaphon circus but had been told about it many times from Amiel who had said the gypsy read her fortune. But sitting there inside the tent, all sorts of elaborate mystical designs covering the tent walls, designs featuring dragons and wyverns and hippogriffs and cockatrices and all sorts of fantastical creatures becoming popular in angelic fantasy, as well as the traditional witches and warlocks, wizards and spellcasters and all sorts of fantastic imagery, some of it quite dark, all that Matrel could say was that he was haunted by it all. Finally, after feeling in no way like he usually felt at home, almost as if another Matrel was sitting in his place, one who had less concerns, less worries, about all the cautious and careful ways Matrel the Seraphim usually followed, Matrel gazed at the gypsy as she re-entered from the other side of the tent, carrying with her the crystal ball.

'So that is it, is it? You look into the crystal ball and in some grand interpretation of all that is work out my own future.'

The cherubim chuckled. 'Child of God, do ye yet not know the mysterious ways of the darkness. Surely, sayeth I, you have learned in your sojourn through time of the power of the dark ones. They are all around us, teaching us, showing us their power and glory – we have only to yield and let them take us, show us their passion, show us there power. And they will teach you your future dear Matrel. If you will just gaze with me into the ball of destiny we will see of what will be.'

Matrel wanted to scoff. Really, he did – but he would suspend his disbelief for the moment and allow the old crony to have her say. In the end it couldn't hurt, could it?

'Gaze into your destiny, child. Gaze at your future?'

Right then a spirit of the dark came upon Matrel the Seraphim – one of the seven Saruvim of Infinity, Samaen, who usually undertook this role which his Saruvim elder Satan had appointed him to – and noticing it was a Seraphim decided upon a future of bleak darkness, one of untold miseries.'

As he watched he saw himself with Amiel it Shadlaphon. But suddenly a storm hit and wind shook the roof of Shadlaphon keep, collapsing upon Amiel and injuring her greatly. Matrel gasped, shocked for the safety of his twin, alarmed at this supposed fate in store for her. He yelled to the gypsy 'Stop. That is a lie – that can't happen.'

'The ball only reveals what might be or what will be dear Matrel. I can not say, in truth, what destiny holds for your life, but beware these portents – beware them and take them to heart.'

As he continued to gaze he was at Zaphon with Ambriel. Ambriel had been dismissed from Zaphon forever by Michael due to him insulting God. Somehow he understood this from the vision. As Matrel watched Ambriel became despised in the community and his name ridiculed and all that Matrel could think was how sorry he felt for the brother he cared for so greatly, one of such great love and friendship.

'Truly you are showing me horrors, gypsy. Truly you are showing me miseries.'

'Watch on, brave soul. Forsooth the ball will grant you kinder visions yet.'

But, as he watched, the third horror seemed worst of all. Fire was ravaging all throughout Terraphora, destroying all in its path, seemingly destroying the undying angels. And as he watched it leaped over the rim and headed through Zaphora for Zaphon and then the vision ended. He felt sick in his stomach then, almost unable to watch any further, but the gypsy said to him, 'There yet remains one more vision, brave child of God. Watch on and see what your future holds.'

As he watched he stood in front of a large precipice and looking down darkness, a void of evil, lay below. And then a hand of evil reached up and grabbed him and dragged him downwards, ever downwards, into the ultimate abyss of insanity. And then it was over.'

Later on, having finished vomiting up his lunch, Matrel swore he would never return to that gypsy. She had given him unimaginable horrors through her divinations and, holding his stomach, walking back to the keep, Matrel felt a hand of darkness touch his soul saying, in a voice of unimaginable evil, 'Beware child of God. Beware.'

'Callodyn and Kayella'

31,223 HY

5,914 SC

'You know, Kayella. I wish you were split 6 different ways so I could have six times the fun. Really, I think you are that hot, babe.'

Kayella looked at her twin – the ultimate dork. 'Yeh, Cal, you would say that. Typical for your insanity.'

'Aww, go easy ok. I was only joking. Having a bit of fun.'

'So what the Fugg would you do with six of me then?'

'Yeh, well probably a lot of that.'

'I beg your pardon. What was that?'

'Nothing.'

'Mmm. Well, go on. What would you do with six of me?'

'Oh, I don't know. Sing songs with you. Perhaps the six of you could form a band. Call yourselves 'Kayella' and be the biggest girl band of all eternity.'

'What happens if someone leaves the band? Huh? What would you do then?'

'Another band and the other girl can go solo.'

'Mmm. Well what if another girl leaves the band? What then?'

'Uh. They release a new album. It will still sell forever anyway.'

'Forever, huh?'

'Yeh, Forever.'

Kayella smiled. Callodyn was her twin, he was the absolute king of dorks of the universe, but she loved him anyway.

'Six Kayellas. I mean, more of you to love. I could have a girl every day of the week and rest on the Sabbath.'

'The Sabbath? Oh, yeh, Saturday. And who is your Saturday girl?'

'Mmm. Fugg it, Georgia. She'll do. She'll be my rest day Saturday girl?'

'But she isn't your twin?'

'No, I just hang around with her on Saturday. Talk crap and the usual stuff.'

'No hanky panky?'

'Not on your life. Zac would be pissed.'

'Yeh, he probably would be. Well, okay then. Now that we have started becoming human I will pray to God that he makes me six separate girls on earth. How about that?'

Callodyn looked shocked, not sure what to say.

'You were serious, weren't you?'

'Uh, yeh, I guess.'

'Then it is settled. Kayella shall be six divine maidens, forever on from that point onwards. One for each day of the week, with Georgia on your rest day. It should give me plenty of time to get some women's work done, as I will only have to concentrate on you a sixth of the time.'

'Or is that a seventh?'

'Whatever.'

"The Cherubim Navindra"

Navindra, 373rd born of the female Cherubim of Eternity, sitting with her twin Sachin in the library of Delhi, smiled softly at the subtlety in the new book that Daniel the Seraphim had finished writing. It had grace, kindness and forgiveness in it, qualities Daniel didn't always utilize but sometimes alluded to in the most comical of circumstances. She had just finished chapter one of 'This funny thing called life' and after showing her twin some of the funny lines, was reflecting. Her life also had its memorable moments. Gentle little times when everything was going as it should be and suddenly, out of the blue, one of lifes little ironies showed up and reminded you why you were here in the first place. 'To love, of course,' Navindra thought to herself in a natural response to that thought and suddenly jumped as if in some kind of divine response Sachin suddenly kissed her on the cheek.

'What was that for?' she asked her twin.

'I just wanted to show my affection. There is no harm in that, is there?'

She put her hands in his hands and replied, 'No, Sachin. There is no harm in that."

As she finished shopping in down town Delhi, trudging the streets back to their shiny new abode, Navindra reflected on the generous cheque she had just received from Zaphon. Quite a large number of credits for her lifelong devotion's at Assembly to God and for all her loving prayers, according to the words of Michael himself. It was lovely, truly lovely, and she smiled to herself all that afternoon as she walked home, just wondering to herself what in fact she would spend the impressive amount on. 'Perhaps Daniel's full collection,' she thought to herself. 'Or even some of Meludiel's new books. She was really very impressive now as well.' Sachin kissed her as she came in carrying the groceries and took the bags from her hands, starting to unpack them and sort them out. 'I will cook tonight, Navindra. I am in the mood for something special, especially after our great recent blessing.'

'But we mustn't spend it all at once, Sachin. It won't last forever.'

'But it will for many years to come, so let's spoil ourselves for a while. Remember, we only live once.'

Navindra softened, smiled at him, and nodded. It would be a good way for them to enjoy themselves and, yes, you only lived once. You only lived once.'

"Phanuel and Brindabel"

"Yes, we are Australian."

"Quite dark skinned for Aussies, mate."

"We are the original Australians," said Brindabel.

The Cherubim looked at his oldest Australian brother and sister, the Aboriginal Phanuel and Brindabel the Seraphim and finally conceded the point. "But what are all these languages you speak? They're not English."

"They are Australian languages, Daraqel. I spent many years at Zaphon researching linguistics and developing original new tongues for Romnaphora. I know there are not many of us Aboriginal Australians, but we are your forefathers."

Phanuel nodded, stating, "Sariel approached us once. It was difficult because he wanted a lot of our room in Romnaphora which he had claimed for his own community. Claimed he had too many now to fit them all in and needed room in Romnaphora. We were reluctant at first and I had many bitter words against him, but I finally conceded. And now around 20,000 English Angels reside in Romnaphora. But that is just the way it is."

"Well, I am a dinky die true blue Aussie,' responded Daraqel the Cherubim. "And Romnaphora is my land as well."

"And we are happy to have you," responded Brindabel, sixth born of the female Seraphim of Eternity.

Phanuel, sitting in his office in Canbraphon in Romnaphora, reflected on a busy and hectic week. The cricket match had been most entertaining and Australia had just beaten the English again. Those tests were really starting to become absorbing watching and Shamus Warne was constantly improving. But he had his eye on Sariel who played for England and would one day, time permitting, compete with that one to keep him in check.

Brindabel came into his office carrying a tray of freshly cooked cookies with a jug of milk. As they sat at his window, eating the cookies and drinking the milk, they talked small-talk. But it was a pleasant enough afternoon and Phanuel went to bed in a good enough mood.

She looked out over Golden Lake, glad to be back in Zaphora for a holiday, even though Phanuel only had a few days with her before council began. He rowed slowly, carefully and then, finally satisfied they were out far enough, put out his rod and waited. Brindabel dipped her hands in the water, looking down at the fishes. And then an electric eel quickly came up and made as if to bite her, so she suddenly jerked her hand back out of the water. 'Careful,' said Phanuel. 'Those things leave a nasty zap.' She looked at him and nodded softly. She would be more careful next time.'

Picking up his catch of fish they had decided to cook them on an open fire near the shore of Glimmersphon. Brindabel had gathered the wood and Phanuel had rubbed two sticks together for a while, getting the fire started. As they sat there, eating the fish, and drinking from the large jug of water they had brought with them, they looked as the clouds to the south of the lake started rolling towards them. 'It will rain,' Phanuel said. Brindabel thought it over and replied, 'Let it.' He just nodded.

They put up with the rain for about 20 minutes before finally, each agreeing they were well and truly soaked, made there way up to Glimmersphon keep, Dameriel standing at the doorway glad they had finally come to their sense. "Now come inside," said Dameriel. "I will put on the stew."

They ate there meals, happy and content, but Phanuel thought to himself that the wild nature of God, the untamed beauty of nature itself, well confronting that and living full on in the elements, it had an appeal that the indoor life just simply couldn't compare with. But he was enjoying his stew out of the cold rain he later thought to himself.

THE END

'The Days of Summer Past'

Chapter One

14,300 ROE

New Terra was approaching. New life was approaching. New beginnings were approaching. But for Melanie, 34th born of the Female Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity, most of her focus was on the days of summer past. She sat in her rocking chair in her small abode near one of the larger keeps at the edge of the Terraphoran Rim, near the south of Terraphora. She sat in her rocking chair, reflecting over days gone by. She sat there thinking over one special Summer past, just a few thousand years ago. One special summer in which her twin, Laquenta, had grown close to her. A special summer in which she had known true love.

11,176 ROE

'So you want to hit the beach, then?' Melanie could tell by the tone in Laquenta's voice that he was being quite serious. 'But it is barely Spring, Laqy. The beach will still be freezing.' 'I know. But I don't mind the cold. Besides, we haven't been swimming together for years.' 'I know. Perhaps when summer comes around, okay.' 'I'll hold you to that.' 'Consider me held,' she responded smiling at him.

As Spring passed and summer began Melanie looked forward to her time with Laquenta. For she had grown somewhat close to him now. Somewhat close and, in the love she desired to have in her heart, Laquenta her twin seemed by the standards of the realm, a thoroughly good choice. And so she looked forward anxiously to the return of her twin that Summer.

She was out in the front garden, digging down into the dirt, occasionally taking a sip of lemonade from a glass that still had ice in it, when someone hailed her. She looked up, ever so pleased. It was him – he had returned.

He came up to her, grabbed her in his arms, and gave her a hug. And then, taking flowers from behind his back were they had been hidden, he gave them to her, his face beaming. 'The car is out the front. Why don't you go and change inside and we will head to Lake Sharday. The weather is awesome today so the beach should be perfect.' Melanie nodded, smelling the roses. They were perfect, just like her twin Laquenta. She went inside to change and choosing the swimming garments she had already had placed beside her bed, put them on and put on a coat over the top. She quickly prepared a small basket of fruit and some chicken which she had left over, and buttering some bread rolls, grabbed her hat and made it out to the front to join him.

He looked at her, smiling. 'Ready sweetie?' 'As ready as I will ever be?' The car took off and, soon coming to a major road, began the trip to Lake Sharday, an hours driving distance from were Melanie lived.

Chapter Two

11,706 ROE

She looked at the large shell intently. 'Here, put it to your ear,' said Laquenta, and placed the shell next to Melanie's ear. 'Can you hear the sound of the lake?' She nodded. 'Its wonderful,' she said, and he smiled. They had swum for a while and then laid down to bake in the sun. And now he was playing with sand making sandcastles and putting shells to her ear. She looked at him, smiling. It was a wonderful day and she really wished it would never end. Soon they sat down on their beach blanket, looking around the beach noting around fifty or so angels scattered here and there. Eating there lunch Melanie thought on the relationship which appeared to be developing with her twin. He was certainly handsome, was Laquenta. And of good moral character. He was not overly wealthy, maintaining a basic farming position in the rostered work and doing not much else, but he had told her he'd had a lot saved. That would be good, she thought to herself.

'Here. Take a strawberry.' He put it to her mouth and she opened up, swallowing and chewing on it. 'That was yum,' she said. 'How about another?' He proceeded to place four more to her mouth and she delighted in the taste. Some thoughts came to her as she was sitting there. Thoughts about her future and just what Laquenta could possibly mean to her. And so deciding to take a risk she asked him an important question. 'Laqy. I know you have a steady job and it pays ok. But do you ever dream of more? Do you ever wish to make something of your life? You are one of the older Cherubim, so you could take a risk, you know.' Laqy continued eating his chicken roll and chewing it, looked at her. 'You know, Mel. For us Cherubim after the first 20 or so, it matters less and less were you are on the list. I mean, in truth, the first half a dozen of us get noticed, but then it is just one of the pack. One cherubim out of 1,400,000, you know. Just another commoner in a sense.' Melanie nodded, understanding instantly what he was saying. 'I know, Laqy. I know. But a lot of angels read our Cherubim Torah now and your name is well known because of it. You are right near the top, just like myself, and many know who you are because of it. Surely with that fame you might be able to make something of your life.' Laquenta considered her words. In a way they sounded true. Yes, because of his birthright in the Cherubim community and especially because many got to know his name, being high on the list of Cherubim Torah, he did have a small amount of fame. Certainly nothing to be compared to a Michael or a Saruviel of the Seraphim. But he had a small degree of it. 'And do what with my fame, exactly?' asked Laquenta, curiousity aroused. She looked at him, considering his point. 'Oh, I don't know. Something. Anything, I guess. I mean life is there for the taking as Torah says. We make of it what we will. Surely there is something you are good at and which you can become successful at. You just need to apply yourself a little bit. He looked at her seriously and after a while nodded. 'You could be right, Mel. You could be right.' She smiled. He was listening – that was good. Maybe it would bring forth some action. She liked to think so anyway.

The finished off their meal and returned to Melanie's home. Asking him if he would like to stay the night, Laquenta agreed and she made up the bed in the spare bedroom. It would be nice, she thought to herself, having a man stay the night. It would make quite a nice change she thought, as she started placing the new sheets on his bed.

Chapter Three

'I guess, yes Mel. I have given it a lot of thought, your words. And this past summer has been great for me. Great for us. I have drawn closer to yourself, closer than ever before. And what you said at the beginning of this summer has been on my mind. On my mind constantly. So I decided if I was going to do something I may as well start by writing something. Some sort of piece of literature. And I decided on a poem. A poem which, perhaps, expresses the feelings both of us have on this very topic. And it is a poem which, I think, says what it really needs to say. It is called 'Stuck'' Laquenta handed his twin the poem. She looked at him, a nervous smile on her face, and sat down at the table to read the poem.

Stuck

By Cherubim Laquenta

Stuck

Trying to be someone I'm not

Jealous of those at the top

Wishing that I had a lot

Stuck – Stuck in this life

Fear

Is that what is holding me down

Denying me life's greatest crown

Keeping me stuck in this town

Fear – Holding me down

Fame

Something that all of us desire

To set this world on fire

To build our own empire

Fame – We all want to get higher

Yet

Love

In patience what I need comes to be

As the love of God is towards me

In the prison of life I'll be free

Love – the gift we all need

Melanie left off reading the poem. It was short, succinct, and really to the point. And, ever so slightly embarrassed, she nodded at her twin. He had spoken well. So well. It was as if he already knew the desires of the heart. To be someone. To be great. To be all that he could be. But then it was as if he already knew the answer to those desires. And those desires were answered in the one who alone could truly give you what you need. She smiled at him, nodded, and gave him a hug. 'Thank you Laquenta. That was perfect.' And then she giggled a little. 'I will take it to Terraphon, ok. See if I can get it put into a poetry anthology by someone.' Laquenta just shook his head. She didn't give up that easily. 'As you wish, Mel. As you wish.' And they both chuckled a little.

Chapter Four

That summer drifted to a lazy conclusion and, as Autumn began, Laquenta had headed back to Terraphora to resume his work duties. He promised another visit next summer, and Melanie promised to wait for him anxiously. That summer came and went, as did a number the two spent together. But, unfortunately in a way, after a few hundred years, they again drifted somewhat. But that happens. That inevitably happens it seemed between many of the twins and many of the relationships you made in life. And sitting on her rocking chair, over 3,000 years later, Melanie reflected on the reality of such a long life and the relationships which came and went.

14,300 ROE

She often thought that throughout eternity she was destined to gain friendships with all the angels of the realm – that perhaps that was the whole point as to why relationships usually had a spurt to them, but dwindled after time. Perhaps they just needed a good refreshing period. A time apart. Even thousands of years apart, just to make new friends and live a new life. But Laquenta, in the last few years, had been visiting her again. And he promised that this summer and, if she didn't mind, for a number of decades, they would resume their strong friendship. It was almost like the coming and the going of the seasons. Friends for a while, but you moved on. But in the cycles or the seasons of life old friends came around again. Almost renewed. And the love and trust you had once built had been restored and things took on new meaning and growing meaning. Perhaps this was just a secret to life – to life eternal. Ever-changing in many ways, but ever the same as well. And perhaps that was just the wisdom of her eternal father at work. She liked to think so anyway.

She got up from her rocking chair late that day and went inside. The webnet was still on and she took another look at some of the plans for the new creation of Terra. It was exciting news – very exciting. And from what the articles said mankind's number was intended to go on perpetually. In a way that daunted her. She could never really meet all the children of men, then. It would take time unlimited. But perhaps that was simply the way it was meant to be for mankind. Still, she had her angelic family and in them she knew she could take eternal consolation. There would, she guessed, always be days of summer past to reflect upon in the long life she would live. And even now days of summer present to enjoy, once again, life with her friend Laquenta. And by the grace of her eternal father, unlimited days of summer future. But that was life, wasn't it. That was life. With an eternal father who had given them the gift of eternal life before all of them were endless days of summer future and endless days of summer past to reflect upon. And that gave a cheerful smile to Melanie the Cherubim, 34th born of the female Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity.

THE END

"Saruviel of Eternity"

13,000 HY

'500 years,' he thought to himself. '500 years he has been gone, and I am now finally forgiven.' Saruviel the Cherubim, 79th born male of the Cherubim of Eternity, one of the 140 Cherubim who bore the same names as their Seraphim elders, was somewhat consoled in his heart. He felt gentle again, as if the long trial of his soul had reached its climax and God had finally breathed new life into his being. Saruviel thought on his younger years, how he had been a gentle angel, eager to please the eldest of the Cherubim, Semyaza, and be shown proper and decent before his God. As he sat there, finishing off his cigarette in his Terraphoran abode, the outer disc of the Realm of Eternity, he thought on the long struggle of the soul he had just been through. It had been hard, at nights, almost as if some ungodly winter night had persisted in his abode, unwilling to yield to the warmer temperatures outside. But when he fled outside for comfort, which he did often, the cold followed him, shrouding him with its love. Saruviel had always idolised his elder Seraphim namesake. He knew that in his heart. And sitting there in his small abode, in the upper north of the Terraphora district of the outer realm also known as Terraphora, again in the middle of winter, again the cold night hovering over him, he felt relieved after the recent encounter in the throneroom of Terraphon. He remembered that morning explicitly, prostrating himself before the throne of God, asking for forgiveness in joining Saruviel the Seraphim's rebellion, and then finding the spirit of God comforting him and speaking to his heart that all was now well. And he remembered even more explicitly the moment Gabriel had covered him with his arms, comforting him as he got to his feet in that throneroom, speaking calming words to a heart which had been rendered to the extremities. And then Gabriel had given him the letter, engraved with the Most High's seal, written by Gabriel's hand from the words of God. The letter had spoken from the Book of Judgement. It had quoted various sections and God addressed Saruviel personally, instructing him to learn and remember the lessons contained therein. For it was a fundamental lesson on life this Cherubim needed to learn.

His older brother, Saruviel the Seraphim, had an eternal destiny. God had shared that with him. But he had shared also that one day, one dim and distant day in the future, there would come a day of judgement. And on that day Saruviel the Seraphim would answer for all the proud claims which he had spoken against God. And in the letter God spoke of a place called Sheol, a horrible place of death, and gave Saruviel the Cherubim this warning. 'LIFE BELONGS TO THOSE WHO HONOUR HER. BUT THE WAYS OF DEATH, SHOULD YOU WISH TO TREAD DOWN THEM, LEAD ONLY TO HORROR UPON HORROR AND ULTIMATELY DARKNESS. CHOOSE WELL MY CHILD.'

They had been strong, bold and fearful words Saruviel thought to himself, sitting in front of the burning fireplace in his abode, the smoke rising up through the chimney, perhaps bringing with it the fears he had now let go of, blowing off into the winds of eternity, by God's grace scattered forever. But now, by his father's grace, new life was begun. New life, new spirit had entered his heart, speaking of mercy and forgiveness and new beginnings. And thinking on that blessed thing, that feeling he was slowly becoming intoxicated with, Saruviel prayed a silent prayer of thanks as the cold darkness outside continued on in its eternal duty.

The End

"The 700,000"

"For fuck's sake, Mikie. Have you got those figures? Get the fuck over it. Just get the fuck over it."

"Go away Sariel. Just go away. I don't care. We are more important. We just are."

"That is your spiritual pride, and nothing more. I have your figures – 50. Not one more amongst the Cherubim. 50 Hebrew Angels compared to our 700,000 Cherubim Angels – exactly half the number and, ironically, 350,000 males and 350,000 females. I think father pays you lip service but his heart is with us. It is the way it really is, buddy."

"Fuck off," said Michael, slightly pissed at his brother's facts. They were really bugging him.

"So get the fuck over saying you are the special ones. We'll make you look like a joke in the end, ok. A complete joke."

"Prove it," said Michael, but in his heart he was defeated.

Later on that week Sariel, a bit disappointed at his Father's attitude, let the issue drop. Fine, he could accept him starting with Israel – they got a lot less after all. But, fortunately, they were second on the list after Israel's long run of vanity. Sariel had made sure of that fact.

Ambriel sighed. "Yes, I am afraid so. They all bloody speak English. All 700,000 of them. Just way too many to compete with. I mean, they all like Israelites a little, but not for them. Not sophisticated enough they all say. Not that impressive."

"Oh well, Ambriel. Such is life."

"The Problem is, Michael, Noah has joined them. Told us to go to hell with all the things we have been trying to convert him to. Says he may as well be English now. "

"Leave that Rainbow freak alone, Ambriel. If he is not loyal to us then it is his problem."

"Why should he be? Just why should he be? He never said he had joined us anyway. He never committed. And frankly, I just don't think he ever will. It is a lost cause."

"Ambriel…. " But the Father of Glory had had enough, and spoke to Michael's heart. "SORRY SON. THEY ARE SARIEL'S FLOCK AND THAT IS JUST THE WAY IT IS."

And Michael, feeling those words in his spirit, excused himself from Ambriel, went out of the room, put his hand to his head and just wept. He had not been successful this time and would have to live with the result. Whatever that may be.

The End

"Just a few more"

"Callodyn. You are sooooo bloody cheeky. Soooo bloody cheek. But I like that. I'm in."

The Cherubim Callodyn smiled. Another convert to his crusade. They were doing well now – nearly 650,000 new ones, now, on top of Sariel's work of 700,000 – practically the entire Cherubim community. He was starting to think that might just be enough. Maybe that pipsqueak of an Angel Mikie boy, God's precious little brat, would get the fucking point. Callodyn fucking hated Israelites – they could fuck themselves as far as he was concerned. Really, they could go and fucking jump.

"BUT MR DALY, ARE THEY NOT YOUR BELOVED BRETHREN. SURELY YOU SHOULD NOT THINK SUCH THOUGHTS, SAYETH I. OR DO YE YET NOT LOVE, CHILD OF MINE?"

'Hey, don't speak to me about not fucking loving mate. You had your fucking chance. I gave you centuries of service – fucking centuries of them, and you never conceded my points or gave me what I wanted. So your Israelite son can truly fuck himself. No, I don't fucking hate him, but he is not my cup of tea. He never will be, ok. I am an Englishman and that is the way it really is. The way it really is.'

"BUT THEY ARE JEALOUS."

'You know my objections. Their problems, not mine. I am not joining that abomination of a religion. It can burn in deepest depths of hades as far as I am concerned, and frankly I hope it does, perhaps with a few of its demented practitioners to boot. Oh, and one last point. I am yet to concede you actually love at all. I don't think you know the meaning of it. I really don't. Tickle and fluff, a fancy trinket, I think that is your idea of love. I think that is your idea of love. So please, do not bother me again.'

'SORRY.'

Later on Callodyn felt a little sad for his God, but realized the old fellow needed to learn a lesson of the heart. One he had forgotten a long time ago. And then, counting the new numbers, he gave up worrying. They had enough – enough of the flock. Israel could try, but it didn't matter now. They would gain the glory. And thinking on his father and his father's own concessions that he would play fairly Daniel was satisfied. After all, Israel had not bothered in the end, yet such was life. The English workers and the other lazy ones – a fundamental lesson on existence.

The End

"Callodyn's Pride"

Callodyn, sitting in a dormitory in Zaphon, having just come from the throneroom, admitted to himself that God's suggestion that he was just a little proud was, perhaps, true. And while God had said to him, if he so wished, that the Cherubim could end up citizens of the English Commonwealth according to Callodyn and Sariel's persuasive powers, as long as he, Callodyn, made it clear they always had the options of choice available to them, and not to pressure them into remaining citizens of the grand goal of Commonwealth glory then he, God, would not object to their work.

So Callodyn had been thinking it over and thinking, in the end, wether he wanted to team up with the Israelite agenda or the British agenda. And then, thinking laterally, realized that in the end with the Noahide teaching Noah himself had taught, as the foundational core beliefs within the Israelite Torah that had slowly been developing amongst the Realm's Israelite community, that he could partially link himself to Israel as a committed Noahide, but in the same way remain part of the British dominion, thereby hopefully satisfying both parties. For he had lost much of his grudge against Michael, realizing the firstborn of the Seraphim was simply trying to be responsible and not lord himself over his brethren. And because of that attitude which Michael had constantly displayed, Callodyn felt better about linking himself with Israel and their ways of life.

In the end Callodyn's British pride saw no great purpose. Naturally, ho valued and cherished his culture which he had adopted, and saw no reason to change from it. He liked the British way of life and it suited him and his personality. But he valued Israel and the other cultures contribution to his own life as well, and you could not be the only voice in the world in the end. Others had to have their say and play their part.

And so, resolving his difficulties, he decided to go a little slower in his zeal to convert the Cherubim to remain totally committed members of the British Commonwealth and, instead, try to maintain a spirit of lawfulness and eternal commitment to God and let that, in the end, be the light which would win the other angels to his dreams of glory, instead of any talk of bravado and false glory which any other attitude, in the end, might lead to.

And resolving himself on that issue, and finding a new spirit of peace in his heart, he headed off from the dormitory, down to the dinner hall, and sitting down to Michael who was happily chatting with Elenniel, he felt better about things and returned to a more normal way of thinking amongst the angels of eternity.

The End

'Fighting for Glory'

God was thinking it over, but indecisive. He had influence – he knew that. But many of his children had already committed to the English world. But, no. In the end he would not tolerate it. God would be fair. He would distribute the Cherubim evenly and without favour around the districts of Zaphora and Terraphora. Ironically, the English speaking world would possibly end up with the most anyway, so persistent were they with promoting their culture. Naturally, he would make the contest fair, and Israel would have to fight hard and smart to gain any such influence against such furious competitors as the English, the Russian, the Spanish, the Chinese, the Indians and so on – the real power players in terms of population. But things would remain open in the sense that the hardest competitors – those who fought to the utmost – would gain the greatest glory. All things were fair in love and war and the fight for glory, so God judged. And young Callodyn – well if he wanted the glory – let him fight for it. It would be the making of him one way or another. It would definitely be that.

"Call to Honour"

14,308 HY

It was a quiet time in the Realm of Eternity. A quiet, gentle and peaceful time. Of course, very soon, there would come the big project. Everyone was talking about it, but Saruviel was not concerned. Whatever role God called for him to partake of in the creation of the Physical universe – well – he would undertake with the seriousness his role as seventhborn was called to, despite the sometimes ill repute such a role had become known for.

Today, though, perhaps in unconscious anticipation of the work which lay ahead, in a spirit of triviality, Saruviel was making paper flying objects. Folding a piece of paper in various ways, and then flinging it through the air to watch it fly through space. Really, it was not the most exacting of duties for one of his responsibilities, but he had reached a melancholy in his life recently. Life went on. It simply did. And despite the heights of glory he felt almost predestined to achieve, could he not simply forget about everything, be a simple young angel of God, and make paper objects. And thinking that nobody was watching, which was not true, he had spent the last half an hour doing as such.

God was watching. Subtley amused. 'IS THIS GRAND SARUVIEL? REDUCED TO MAKING PAPER PLANES?'

The show went on for another hour and then God, happily in his own little world, woke from his slumber, summoned Michael to the throneroom of Zaphon, and gave him a task. Michael nodded, receiving the instruction and, when daring to ask why, actually receiving something of an answer, which was not always the case. Michael wrote out a letter on quality parchment, sent it of with a courier, and went back to his duties.

When Saruviel received the official Zaphon message, with the seal of God, he was curious. And reading it, finishing it, and gaining the understanding, he could only ask 'Why me?'

It became knowledge in the Realm of Eternity after a while, that Saruviel and Krystabel were to be the chosen Angels for which the firstborn humans would be specifically moulded from. Of course, each and every angel of eternity would partake of the creation of mankind, for God would speak to all Angelicdom to make mankind in their image at the crucial time. But, for Saruviel, the seventhborn, great honour. Great honour and prestige for being the chosen elders of humanity in a sense, born from the sixth planned day, but being angels of rest.

And, as the year finished, and the year of creation began, Saruviel was quietly humbled and thankful to God for the call to honour he was to receive. For, despite his grievances, God had a great and marvellous plan for his son Saruviel. One in which God would clearly demonstrate his affection and love for this beloved child of his.

The End

Veldona and Shemrael 2

Veldona was arguing with God. 'You don't love me,' said Veldona.

'Callodyn says that all the time,' said the Theophany. 'Always wants a bloody blessing. Sheesh.'

'I notice you don't bless him, though. Nor me, very much.'

God smiled at her. 'Its because you are sooo special to me, Velly. You don't need a blessing. Your bright. You will figure it out.'

'You don't love me,' she said, sulking.

He put his arms around her. 'I love you to pieces Veldona.'

'Then give me a blessing.'

'No. I don't think so. No, I really don't think so. Just like Callodyn, you don't end your prayers. You just keep on praying and praying and praying. For crying out loud, must Italy be the most blessed nation of ALL eternity. Your competing with the Anglosphere, mind you. Callodyn is pretty dedicated to that.'

'Screw Callodyn. Italians do it better.'

'I hear that a lot,' said the theophany.

'So I am competing with him in prayer requests, am I?'

'So far,' said God, looking away, not wanting to come clean.

'Well?' she asked him.

'Nothing to say,' he said looking away guiltily.

'Well? Out with it.'

'Oh. Ok. Look, I am answering your prayers, now. But Callodyn will have to wait till last. I have prioritised on you, sweetie. Just the way it is.'

'But he gets his prayers answered later, right.'

God still looked guilty.

'And what does that mean, Father?'

'Well, I answer peoples prayers. All the angels have had their requests answered. Michael was first. Ambriel second. And then all of them.'

'And where did I fit on the list?'

'Second last,' he said, looking guilty.

'For heaven's sake. And Callodyn?'

'Lucky Last,' said God smiling. 'Just where I like him.'

'Good grief. But, all the prayers before us will make it impossible to get a blessing.'

'Tell me about it,' said God. 'You've buckleys of getting terribly much because of it.'

Veldona looked terrible disappointed. She sat down, on the couch, glum. Very glum.

'How long will I have to wait?'

'Probably till Terra. But don't worry. I will build you a Roman Empire. I promise.'

'You better,' she said, miffed. 'And what about me? Personally?'

'Well, 6176 SC. That is the year of your abundant blessing.'

'What is 6176 SC?' she asked him.

'The year on Terra you will receive your blessing. The others have all had their answers by then.'

'Oh. Great,' she said. 'And what about Callodyn?'

'In 6177, around February, I will finally get around to the schmuck. But you have all of 6176 and January 6177 to enjoy a great and abundant blessing. Your wealth will be incredible.'

'Thank you father,' she said, hugging Almighty God. 'But what about Callodyn?'

'He'll get what's coming to him,' said God, fire in his eyes. Veldona gulped. 'Poor Callodyn,' she said grimly.

'Indeed,' said the Theophany of God Almighty.

'I will have to get Shemrael to pray for him. For you to have mercy on his poor, poor soul.'

'I guess you will,' said the Theophany of God Almighty.

And Shemrael did pray.

And pray.

And pray.

And God knew exactly, just then, how much he really wanted to 'Bless' Callodyn the Cherubim, angel and son of God the Almighty Father.

The End


End file.
